Silence Speaks
by Sis21K
Summary: "Just tell me it wasn't you," Davey said in a low, dangerous voice. "Tell me the fire was an accident. Tell me you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just tell me something!"
1. To Speak Again

**Hello everyone, and welcome to my new multi-chapter! To get a little more information about Mouse, check out my introduction story about her ("Mouse") or check out my profile.**

**Enjoy!**

"Mouse, hurry up! We're gonna be late!" Davey called.

Mouse was lagging behind her brothers on the way to the circulation desk. She was stomping, glaring at the ground. They were each carrying a bag of extra clothes and a toothbrush. Mouse had been excited to be able to stay at the Lodging House for two weeks—that is, until this morning.

"We gotta stop at the Lodging House on the way so we can drop off our stuff—hurry up, Mouse!"

Mouse didn't go any faster. They could leave her behind for all she cared. She knew the real reason they were staying with the newsies. Sure, Mother and Dad were going on a two-week vacation. Sure, they needed a place to stay. But there was definitely a different reason, as Mouse had found out so brutally this morning.

"Haddie." Davey had stopped in his tracks, waiting impatiently for her to catch up. Mouse walked a little faster, knowing that when he said her real name he meant business. Les jogged up beside her and took her hand. She _almost_ swatted him away—who needed a little brother tugging her along?—but decided not to cause any trouble.

After dropping off their bags at the Lodging House, the three siblings continued on to the circulation desk. Mouse pulled away from Les and hurried to get into line with the other boys waiting to get the day's papers. Jack called, "Heya, Mouse! Ready for two weeks of fun?" as she passed, but Mouse swept past him. She was too angry to acknowledge anyone.

She listened closely as Jack went over to Davey. "What's wrong with her?"

_Here we go, _Mouse thought.

Davey sighed. "Well, you know how our parents think it will help her start talking again if she comes here a lot?"

_Go ahead. Tell the whole world._

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Well, I guess she just found out about that whole idea this morning."

_And it made me pretty darn angry._

"That's it? But I thought she knew that!" Jack exclaimed, unaware that 'she' was listening.

"I think she kind of did, but she heard Dad say it aloud this morning, and it just made her mad, I guess."

_Pretty much sums it up, _Mouse thought. She knew her parents had let her come to work as a newsie a few times a week _partially_ to help her find her voice again, but the way her father had said it this morning, it was as if that was the only reason. "Is that Jack Kelly kid making any progress with her voice yet?" is what he had said. "He'd better get cracking, or we can forget this whole newsies business and start saving up to send her to special school."

And Jack had known about it. All those things he said to Mouse, to subtly make her frustrated, or to make her laugh. All those times the other boys had snuck up behind her and poked her in the ribs. They had only been hoping to please Jack by being the first to make her squeal. Jack had even started letting her sell alone, on the other end of the block. He didn't help her anymore by hawking the headlines while she held up the papes. She had started losing a lot of money because of him, because he was trying to get her to hawk a headline herself. Did he really think it would be that simple? Did he really think that she would stride down to her corner one day and start shouting?

Mouse hadn't spoken in six years, she wasn't about to start again now. It's not that she was obstinate—she physically couldn't. She had tried. And failed. Maybe it was stubborn will at first, but now…the whole 'silence' thing was out of her control. And she hated that. But she didn't need all the newsies of lower Manhattan trying to help her. She especially didn't need Jack Kelly trying to help her. She was beyond help. No, it was better if they all just left her alone. The idea that two weeks living with the newsies could make her start talking again—well, it was almost laughable.

She just wished she could explain to Jack—to Davey—to all of them—that it was useless to try and help her. The idea of speech was hopeless to Mouse. Why didn't anyone understand?

"Newsies! Hit the streets!" Jack yelled. Mouse realized Les must have handed her a bag and her papes. She slung her bag over her shoulder and walked quickly past Jack. "Hey, Mouse, wait up!"

Mouse ignored him. She would spend the day ignoring people. They wanted her to get her voice back, did they? Well, she would show them. She could get it back herself.

Because Mouse really wanted to speak again.

She just wasn't sure how.

**Thank you for reading and please review! I hope to be updating this fairly often. Also, there will be more action in the next chapter :) Just had to set the mood.**

**-Sis21K**


	2. Go Away

**Ugh, I said I would be updating often and look how long it's taken me! Also, I realize I'm starting this off very angsty, but I promise I'll get a happy chapter in after this one.**

**Enjoy!**

Jack stormed into the deli at noon and went straight to the table where Davey was sitting. "You gotta make her stop!" he growled.

"Stop what?" Davey asked, sliding his chair away from the frustrated Jack. "Where's Mouse? What—"

"She's gotta stop ignoring us! She can't keep it up! It's one thing not to talk, but pretending she's gone deaf too? On top of that?"

"She's just having a bad day," Davey said nervously. "She'll get over it. But Jack…" He peered towards the door. "Where is she? You can't just leave her alone on the street! I thought you knew that!"

"Oh, I tried to get her to come," Jack said, giving a scornful laugh. "I told her it was time for lunch. I shouted at her I got in her face. Then I tried being nice, coaxing her. But she'd have none of it. Didn't even glance at me! You'se her brother, go make her knock it off!" Jack was nearly yelling.

"You're her brother, too," Davey said softly. "And I can't make her stop ignoring us any more than I can make her start talking again. She goes through moods, just let it blow over."

"Huh." Jack had been standing; now he lowered himself into a chair, frowning.

"Are you going to go get her or should I?" Davey inquired.

Jack stood up, his chair clattering to the floor. "You'se coming with me," he commanded, stalking towards the door.

Davey sighed, set Jack's chair upright and followed him. "Why is this such a big deal? Don't you sell on opposite ends of the block anyway?"

"If you call it selling," Jack scoffed. "Doubt she's sold more than five papes today."

"What?!"

"She's just standing there, staring at nothing, holdin' a pape in each hand. Every once in a while some lady has pity on her and takes one. I had to go over and pick up the coins, because she wouldn't hold them. She just let them fall to the ground after each lady left. Ugh, you'd better back me up," Jack warned as they turned a corner. "Maybe if she's got two of us yelling at her she'll snap out of it."

"I'm not gonna yell at her," Davey argued.

"Then what's your plan?" They could see Mouse, standing motionless on the street corner.

Davey didn't answer, but set his jaw and continued towards his sister.

Mouse didn't notice the approach of Davey and Jack until they were right in front of her. Jack was still fuming; Davey looked concerned. _Wish they'd just leave me alone…_

"Mouse, you gotta stop this," Davey coaxed. "This isn't good for you. You've barely sold any papes."

_I don't gotta do anything._

"Is there something deeper going on that I don't know about? Can you just write it down?"

_Just leave me—_

"Haddie." Davey took her by the shoulders. "Enough. Take this…" He produced a pencil. "…and this…you're not gonna sell it anyway…" He pulled one of Mouse's newspapers out of her bag. "Now write."

Mouse's eyes moved for the first time. She slowly gazed at the newspaper and pencil, then reached out and took them. She pressed the paper against the building.

YOU WAS ALL TRYING TO MAKE ME TALK

She paused. Jack opened his mouth to speak, but Mouse frowned at him and continued writing.

THIS WHOLE TIME. THAT'S THE REASON I WAS HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE. ISN'T IT?

"Mouse, you know we all want to hear your voice again. And that's not the only reason you were here," Davey said gently.

BUT THE MAIN REASON

Mouse gulped. Neither Jack nor Davey answered. She decided to at least try and explain.

I CAN'T TALK. IT USED TO BE I JUST WOULDN'T, BUT NOW I CAN'T. I'VE TRIED. I HATE IT. BUT YOU CAN'T HELP ME. IT'S USELESS.

She moved the paper so they could read her written words through the printed ink.

"Oh, Mouse, don't say that…" Davey slung an arm around her shoulder.

"Don't give up on it," Jack murmured.

Mouse shrugged Davey's arm off. She reached for the newspaper again and underlined USELESS, pressing so hard with the pencil that the tip broke.

"Mouse, you know what you forgot today?" Jack said suddenly. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small wooden sign reading CAN NOT TALK, which he had carved and threaded a string through to hang around Mouse's neck. She had been using the sign with success for a few weeks now. Mouse took it and put it around her neck. Jack gazed at her for a moment, then headed back towards the deli to get lunch.

_Okay, good-bye, Davey. Go away now._

"Are you gonna be okay now?"

_Just go away, Davey._

"Mouse. You gotta concentrate now. You gotta sell some papes. Weasel's gonna be mad if you bring back most of your papes."

_Davey, please._

"Well, I'm gonna go back to the deli, okay? I'll send Jack back right away."

_Go away._

Davey left.

Jack returned, sandwich in hand, and was keeping one eye on Mouse while he continued to sell. She had snapped out of her daze and was selling with more vigor now. He thought about what the young girl had written on that newspaper. Mouse was trapped inside her own head. Sure, he had been trying to wheedle her into talking again, but he hadn't thought it would make her so angry. He made a conscious decision to back off a little.

Jack had just reached this conclusion when he was startled by the sound of wood smashing against brick. He looked over just in time to see Mouse slamming the CAN NOT TALK sign against the building. It snapped in half and fell to the ground. She stared at it, bent over, with a strained look on her face. Something about her expression struck Jack—she was trying to speak. And no words would come. Her face flushed with the effort, but finally she gave it up and leaned, gasping, against the building.

Jack was tempted to rush over to her, but he had the feeling it would only make it worse. He forced himself to turn away and hawk another headline. He kept glancing at Mouse, who soon began selling again, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. However, without the sign, people avoided her silent pleads as if she wasn't even there. Jack could see her starting to get visibly frustrated. He was kind of glad—any emotion was better than the daze she had been in all morning.

Finally, Mouse gave in as yet another couple walked past her without even acknowledging her. She picked up the pieces of the sign and reluctantly approached Jack. She kept her eyes on the ground, swallowing hard. Jack smirked and pretended not to see her until she poked him.

_Just fix my sign. I know you saw me break it. It was stupid, I know. But just don't make a big deal out of it. Just fix it, Jack, please._

Jack took the two halves of the wooden sign and examined them. There was no way he could piece it back together without supplies. "Can't fix it without glue or something."

_Dang it. Well, what did I expect?_

Mouse sighed and started to walk away, but Jack grabbed her shoulder. She turned around and looked him in the eyes for the first time that day.

Jack could have lectured her. He could have said "I told you so." But that wouldn't do anything but make Mouse angry at him. Instead, he kept a hand on her shoulder, and slowly took a pape out of her bag and handed it to her. "Extra! Extra!"

And they sold together. He hawked the headlines, she held up the papers.

_Maybe it's okay, _Mouse thought. _Maybe._

**Like I said, next chapter will be a little more lighthearted. Reviews make my day!**

**-Sis21K**

**(P.S. If you haven't already, please go check out the Newsies Pape Selling Competition Forum. We're just waiting for a few spots to be filled. If you like to write Newsies fanfiction, you should really look into it. It's going to be a lot of fun!)**


	3. Cowboys and Indians

**So my goal for this story is to update twice a week. We'll see how that works out. Also with Easter break coming up this week I plan to post pretty often.**

**Anyway, thanks for all the reviews and follows/favorites! Now let's get to the story, a happy chapter, as promised!**

"Okay, Mouse, let's go," Jack said gently, not saying a word about the fact that they had sold all of their papers together. They hadn't done _that_ in months. But Jack pretended like it was just another normal day, and together they headed back to the circulation desk. Davey was already there, and as Jack and Mouse approached, he raised an eyebrow quizzically at Jack. Jack subtly shook his head, signaling that Davey shouldn't mention Mouse's earlier "mood".

The newsies headed back to the Lodging House as one group. Mouse ended up in the back of the group; Davey started to go towards her but Jack smacked him. "No. Have Crutch do it." He motioned to Crutchie, who was already nodding and limping back towards Mouse. Jack leaned over to Davey. "Crutchie's good at getting the little ones out of bad moods if I can't. You know, I guess I kinda get angry...if it goes on too long..."

"Really..." Davey said, rolling his eyes. "I never noticed."

Mouse looked up as Crutchie fell in step beside her. _Ugh, now they sent someone else to try and help me. Why can't they all just leave me alone?! _

"How's it going, Mouse?" Crutchie asked kindly. Mouse shrugged noncommittally. "You excited to stay with us?" Mouse only shrugged again. "Hey, guess what?" Crutchie put an arm around her shoulder. "We'se gonna play Cowboys and Indians tonight. You ever been here when we played that?" Mouse shook her head. "Oh, it's great. Jack's always the head Cowboy and Race is the Indian chief. They divide up teams and then we play. Oh, and I'm always the doctor, so if you die someone can call me over to you-but you can't call me yourself when you're dead. Oh, well, I guess it won't be a problem for you anyway," Crutchie added cheerfully. Mouse liked that he didn't become uncomfortable when saying something about how she couldn't talk. It probably came from years of having to talk about his own disability casually. "Maybe Jack will make you the lady that the Indians captured. Usually we just use a flag, but we've always wanted to play with a real damsel in distress. It'll be great!" Crutchie said as they entered the Lodging House. He leaned in close to her. "And don't worry. The Cowboys always win."

As soon as the idea was suggested, the newsies gave Mouse no choice but to be the captured lady, however much she shook her head. Eventually, with their enthusiasm, she agreed with a reluctant giggle. Jack ordered her to a top bunk in the middle of the room. Crutchie took up his position below her as Jack and Race divided up the teams. Jack soon discovered that choosing Davey wasn't the best decision; though he had many good, detailed plans of attack, the newsies were more content to attack chaotically rather than listen to Davey's intellectual plans.

When everyone was ready-Jack and his Cowboys on the stairs, Race and his Indians hiding throughout the lower level of the Lodging House-Jack let out a loud war cry and all chaos broke loose.

Mouse was glad she was sitting up out of the way when the mob of newsies hollering like Cowboys stormed down the stairs, led by an enthusiastic Jack, the only one who owned a real cowboy hat. The Indians retaliated immediately by jumping out of their many hiding places and pretending to shoot arrows at the onslaught of Cowboys. Most of Race's team was shirtless, and Chief Race himself had smeared shaving cream across his chest like war paint.

Soon Crutchie's name was echoing throughout the Lodging House, as newsies called on him for their "dead" teammates. Crutchie was limping as fast as he could, trying not to favor either side. As soon as his crutch touched whoever had been shot down, the newsie in question leapt to his feet and continued in the game.

The deaths became more and more dramatic. If a newsie was "shot", they fell screaming to the floor, clutching their chest, reaching toward those around them. Mouse found each death scene quite amusing. No one seemed to be thinking about capturing her.

The excited hollers and shouts of newsies rose to a roar. Finally Jack yelled, "Hold it! HOLD IT! Time out, regroup!"

"Thank goodness," Davey breathed, coming out of the corner in which he had barricaded himself, away from the battle. The teams huddled. Mouse leaned out of her perch to listen to Race's pep talk. Les was an Indian, and somehow he had gotten shaving cream smeared on his cheeks. He bounced up and down impatiently as Race assigned Mush to be his backup. "I'm going in for Mouse this time, you guys all gotta distract 'em, but Mush'll cover me. Got it?"

Meanwhile, Davey was frantically explaining a simplified strategy to the Cowboys. "Just keep one eye on Mouse's bunk-"

"It's a tower," Jack interjected.

Davey rolled his eyes. "Tower, whatever. Just make sure no one but Jack gets close!"

The game resumed. A while later, Crutchie the Doctor retired. "No more doctor!" he yelled, amidst groans, as he went to sit out of the way and watch the fun. "Now if you die, you die!"

Les protested this, as he had just been shot dead when Crutchie had made the announcement. Crutchie sighed and touched him with the crutch. "But that's it, that's the last one!" he called. Albert, a Cowboy, proceeded to shout "Bang!" and shoot Les in the back with his invisible gun. Les's angry screams, on the verge of a breakdown, were drowned out by the continuing war.

Mouse decided she had to be vigilant now. Both Race and Jack were edging towards her bunk. Arguments broke out around the room, over who had shot who, but even so, more and more newsies were laying "dead" on the floor. Most of them began to scoot closer to Mouse's bunk bed to watch the final actions of the game. _Oh, boy, _she thought apprehensively. _How is this gonna happen?_

Only a few from each team were left standing when both Race and Jack leapt towards the bed. All other fights stopped as everyone watched the scene. Someone threw them each a long wooden stick, and they began to battle like Knights, using the rods as swords. Mouse was caught up in the action, but she could hear Davey muttering, "Knights came hundreds of years before Cowboys and Indians...the time is all wrong..." He was the only one who seemed to notice the sudden change in time period.

The boys made battle sounds as they jousted. Mouse began to get nervous. What if she was taken away by the Indian Chief? She found herself really getting into her part. Finally Race's stick flew out of his hand, and his arms flew up in surrender. Cheers of both Cowboys and Indians alike filled the Lodging House. Race couldn't help but grin too; he'd lost for the purpose of the game. Jack held out his arms and Mouse leaned out over the bed. He grabbed her under the arms and she pushed herself carefully off, swinging gently into his tight grasp. Jack held Mouse against his chest with one arm and raised the other in victory. Shouts of happiness and appreciation for the winning Cowboy echoed.

Mouse pushed as much air as she could through her mouth, but no joyful sound came out. _Oh, well._

Jack was looking at her, and she met his eyes. She could hear him even over the newsies' cheers. "See? The Cowboys always win."

**Please review!**

**-Sis21K**

**(PS you can still join the Newsies Pape Selling Copetition! In fact, please do! We need more people!)**


	4. Nightmares

**Hello again! Back to the angsty mystery.**

_No. I didn't do that. That isn't blood…it's not…oh, jeez, there's so much…blood, it's blood, it's really blood…why is there so much? There's so much blood…it's not my fault, I swear! No! Run, you gotta run, Haddie. Run. Run! Go! No, it's not—_

Mouse bolted up in her bed in the middle of the Lodging House, breathing heavily. She was drenched in sweat, and her heart was racing.

_—__my fault._

It was a dream, just a dream, just the nightmare she'd had for years…

_Not real…it's over…_she tried to slow her breathing. She wished this could just stop. That she could stop having these stupid nightmares and start being able to speak again.

Suddenly Mouse found her feet on the cold wooden floor. She was walking, walking towards the door. Because somewhere deep in her mind, she knew what she had to do. This could all stop if she visited the place where it all began…

She quietly opened the door of the Lodging House and stepped outside, gulping in the chilly night air. No one would know Mouse had gone. No one…

"Hey."

…except Jack.

Of course he was there. Of course, just when she had decided to follow through with one of the stupidest decisions of her life…he just happened to be standing right outside the door.

"Where you going?" he asked, leaning against the building casually.

Mouse shrugged. She tried to hurry past him, but he grabbed her shirt.

"I ain't taking that for an answer. You gonna write it or what?"

Mouse crossed her arms in frustration. Why did he have to make things so difficult?

"I'm just looking out for you, kid. The streets at night ain't no place for a little girl to be."

_Shoot, forget it. I'll just go tomorrow. Sneak off while Jack is eating lunch. Yeah. That'll work. _Mouse felt a bit relieved. She would not go tonight.

After a moment, Mouse turned on her heels and stalked decisively back towards the door.

"Hey, wait now! Hold on a second! What was you out here for anyway?"

Mouse placed a hand on the doorknob and tugged. It was locked. _What?! _She whirled back around to face Jack. He had been standing outside, knowing the door was locked?

"Ladders. Rooftop," he said in explanation, but pulled her to his side. From an alley nearby came distant shouts and screams. "That there's a gang fight. We gotta get off the street," he said calmly, leading her around the side of the building. "You think you can climb up?" He motioned at the ladder that went all the way up to the roof of the Lodging House. Mouse nodded. "All right. I'll go behind you. Just don't fall, 'cause I ain't gonna be able to catch you good."

The climb was uneventful, and Mouse scrambled for the stairs as soon as she was on the roof. "Not so fast!" Jack said, grabbing her arm at the last second, having jumped up the last couple rungs and sprinted across the rooftop. Mouse plopped herself down on a crate with a sigh.

"Hey," he said softly, swinging her around to face him and kneeling down so they were eye to eye. "Did you have a nightmare?"

_How could he have known that? _Mouse nodded, feeling tears spring to her eyes. She would not let them fall, oh no. Not in front of Jack.

"That's what I figured. You okay? You wanna talk about it?" _Yes, Jack, as soon as some miracle grants me the ability to speak again, I will talk about it, about anything at all, really. _"Ah. I mean…I got pencils and paper, if you want to write…" But Mouse was already shaking her head. It was over now; reliving it would only make it worse.

Jack got her a pencil and paper anyway. "Just in case."

He took a deep breath. Mouse could tell he was going to try and wheedle something out of her. She set her mouth in a straight line and prepared for a lot of head shaking.

"Mouse…why did you stop talking?"

She shook her head. _Nope. Direct questions don't work. Trust me, Davey has tried. And Mother and Dad. Even Les. Even the doctor. _

"I mean, there's gotta be a reason, huh?"

Mouse shook it harder. _Yes, but not one I'm gonna share with you._

"You don't gotta tell me."

A slightly less adamant shaking. _Good. I'll go to bed then._

"But I was just wondering…does it have to do with where you were going tonight?"

_Of course it does. It has everything to do with where I was going. Where I _am _going. Tomorrow._ She kept shaking her head.

"Doesn't it have something to do with…that factory you used to work at?"

_Okay, that's a little too far. Who told you about that?_

"Davey told me," Jack said, as if reading her mind. Mouse noticed she had stopped shaking her head but couldn't get the courage to start again. "He said you came home and said there was a bad accident at the factory and you didn't want to go back. But the thing is, you were fine for the rest of the night. It was the next day that you stopped talking."

_True…but Jack, you can't—_

"So the question is, what happened that night? And what was that bad accident at the factory? Was the accident the reason you stopped talking, or was it some entirely unrelated incident?" He paused pensively. "What do you keep having nightmares about?"

_Too much. _

Mouse got to her feet, crumpled up the piece of paper in her hand and threw it to the ground. She ran down the stairs as fast as she could and jumped back into her lower bunk. Mouse yanked the covers over her head and stayed still and silent. After a few minutes, she heard what could only be the sound of Jack coming quietly down the stairs. His footsteps came closer and closer until she sensed him standing right beside her bed. She didn't move. He seemed to know she wasn't asleep, because he put a gentle hand on the top of her head sticking out of the covers. He waited a moment, then went slowly back upstairs.

Mouse kept her eyes wide open in the darkness. She didn't want to fall asleep again, didn't want to have to live through two nightmares tonight. Instead, she went over the plan in her head for tomorrow. It would be worse than a nightmare. It would be the real thing.

**Don't worry, I'll be updating ASAP!**

**Please review!**

**-Sis21K**

**(P.S. Another reminder to join the Newsies Pape Selling Competition over in the Forums!)**


	5. The Fire

**Here's another chapter for my lovely reviewers! Whew, two in one day!**

"Extra! Extra! 'Apartments Found Infested With Giant Rats!' You heard it, right here! Extra!" Jack shouted, prompting a few people to buy his papes. As soon as the last nickel had been dropped into his hand, he shouted, "Hey, Mouse!" and took off around the corner before anyone could figure out his headline wasn't true. Mouse sighed; Jack always insisted she run too, meeting him on the other end of the block. She started off, but suddenly halted in her tracks. Jack was out of sight for the moment, waiting for her around the corner. It was her chance. She turned around and sprinted in the other direction.

Towards the factory.

* * *

Jack was waiting for Mouse impatiently. What was taking her so long? He had told her to run, always run when he called to her. At this rate, she must be going at a stroll.

Or someone might have stopped her.

At the thought, Jack ran around the corner, prepared to fight whoever was holding Mouse up, whether it was the Delancey brothers or some nice old lady.

But there was no one to fight. In fact, there wasn't even anyone to save.

Mouse was gone.

"Nice one, Captain Jack!" Jack groaned, smacking his forehead. "Way to lose the one kid you'se supposed to be taking care of. Shoot, Davey's gonna be mad…" He ran off toward the deli where Davey would be having lunch, keeping his eyes peeled for the little girl. "Where could she have gone? Ugh, how could I have let her out of my sight, especially after she tried to sneak off last night?"

He burst into the deli and sprinted the last few steps to the table where Davey and Crutchie sat. "She's gone."

"What?"

"She ran off. I dunno where she went."

"What are you talking about, Jack?"

"Mouse! Your sister! She's gone!"

Davey leapt to his feet. "My sister is gone?"

"That's what I said, idiot."

"Don't call _me_ an idiot when _you_ just lost my sister!"

"I was—"

"How many times have I reminded you to never let her out of your sight, Jack?!"

"It was only—"

"Apparently not enough, because now she's gone and we have no idea where she is!"

"Last night—"

"Did you even try to look for her?"

"Shut up and listen to me!" Jack bellowed. Crutchie punched them both—hard—and quickly led them out of the deli before they got kicked out.

"What do you want to say, Jack? I'm listening!" Davey's eyes flashed as Jack began to speak.

"Last night. She had a nightmare and tried to sneak out. I dunno where."

"And you didn't see it fit to tell me this? I could have talked to her!"

"_I_ talked to her, I thought it was over! That she had forgotten about it!"

"One thing you should know about my sister—"

"Stop calling her your sister! She's my sister too, she's all of ours!"

"—is that if she agrees to something too quickly, she's just agreeing to make you shut up! She doesn't forget about it!"

"How's about this," Crutchie said, his teeth gritted. "Instead of standing here arguing, we go and find her before she gets too far!"

Jack and Davey both closed their mouths tightly, glaring at each other.

"Exactly. Come on," Crutchie said, taking the lead.

* * *

Mouse stood in front of the factory where she had worked when she was six. It hadn't changed much. There was a small boy leaning against the building, so thin she could count his ribs. "Buy a match?" he asked her hoarsely.

She dug into her pocket and pulled out a penny. She didn't need it anyway.

The boy looked so grateful Mouse wished she could tell him about the newsies. Newsies made much more money than match-sellers. She dropped the match into her bag with the newspapers, planning to give it to Jack later. As a sort of "I'm Sorry" gift, for running off.

The skinny boy was watching her. Mouse took a deep breath and stepped into the factory.

It was just as loud as she remembered. The machines cranked and groaned. She quickly remembered the wooden sign around her neck—CAN NOT TALK—that Jack had repaired the night before. She took it off and stuffed it in her bag.

No one acknowledged her. She could have been just another working kid. She hadn't been in here for six years. Why did she think that coming again would make her speak? Her heart was pounding, but the factory bore no signs of the accident—

Blood.

There was…blood …on the floor…nearly black with age…stained…blood…

Mouse threw up.

This caught some of the kids' attention, but they dared not stray from their work. Instead they just stared at her, as she heaved up the contents of her stomach. When there was nothing left to come up, she still retched, somehow silently. Every time she looked at the dark, crusted blood stains on the floor, she gagged. Mouse leaned against a wall for support, her bag rubbing up against it.

A man, overseeing the children's work, came over to her. "You best clean that up, lass!" He struck her across the cheek. Mouse fell against the wall, but not before seeing a change in his eyes. He remembered. Her face hadn't changed much in six years. _No, no! He can't recognize me now! _"You!" he growled. "You were the one who—"

Mouse looked defiantly up into his eyes, though her heart was fluttering so quickly she feared it would burst. _I was the one who what? _she wanted to ask. _Who did exactly what you said? Who obeyed you?_

But he was backing away. "Go! Get out of here before you burn the place down!" he screamed at her.

_What is he talking about?_

And that's when Mouse noticed a hot sensation by her hip.

The tiny match from the skinny boy, the one she had dropped carelessly in her bag, had burst into flames. And now all her papers were burning. And her newsie bag. The wall was being scorched.

There were screams. Kids ran for the exit. The man was bellowing hoarsely at them, "No! Don't go, you stupid scum! Put the fire out! Stay! Stay!" He tried to grab them as they ran past him, but the children were quick and he wasn't. The fire grew around Mouse. She took the bag off and held it in her hands as it burned. She watched in fascination as the flames licked at her hands. There was a slight pain that accompanied it, but it wasn't enough to make Mouse drop the bag. So she held it and watched as it went up in flames.

The man was gone now. He ran, just like he had six years ago. The last of the workers, attracted by the screams, had also disappeared outside. Mouse was all alone in the factory, surrounded by fire and puke.

Mouse slowly looked down and realized that her clothes were on fire. Maybe if she burned long enough she would be able to speak.

She coughed. The smoke seeped into her lungs. And that's when the burning pain hit her, and tears began to stream down her face. She dropped what was left of her bag of papes—it was only ashes—and stumbled out of the flames. The smoke was so thick now that she couldn't see. She could only feel her way toward the door, out into the sunlight, accompanied by billows of smoke. Her shoes were still red-hot; she kicked them off as the outside air hit her. She stood and looked into the crowd as the factory burned behind her.

Familiar faces and voices came to her, but she fell to her knees, not wanting to feel, not wanting to think. She just wanted it all to stop. Mouse wished this was a nightmare, but she felt too alive for that to be true.

* * *

"What the—?"

Jack, Davey, and Crutchie joined the crowd of people watching smoke billow out of the factory. They had come here because Jack had confessed bringing the factory up last night. "What's going on? Do you think Mouse is in there?"

"No," Jack said, his voice shaking. "She's right there."

A breeze blew the smoke aside for a moment, and they saw Mouse stumble out of the factory.

Davey shouted "No!" as they all pushed forward. Her clothes were smoking. The little girl frantically kicked off her shoes. Tears streamed down her face. She looked so lost, standing silhouetted against the burning building. Flames began to flicker in the windows as Mouse fell to her knees and the three boys pushed through the crowd. Clanging bells announced the arrival of firemen.

Davey was the first to burst out of the crowd and reach his sister. She panted heavily as he lifted her into his arms, yelling at Jack and Crutchie to hurry. He could feel the heat radiating off of little Mouse. They ran down the street, towards the Lodging House; though they tried to ignore it, they all heard the angry shouts coming from behind them.

"It was that little girl! She started the fire! It was her!"

**Sorry, that was pretty intense. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Please leave me a review! And thanks to those of you who have been reviewing.**

**-Sis21K**


	6. Angry Brothers

**Sorry, sorry, sorry it took me so long to update!**

**I'm quite upset today because today is regional speech and yesterday I got super sick and dehydrated and now I can't go. Also I was going to update yesterday, had this chapter all written, but then with being sick it slipped my mind. Ugh. Also my house is being torn apart because we're repainting and re-flooring...I could go on and on but I won't because you probably just want to read the chapter.**

"We gotta go, we gotta go!" Davey groaned. Mouse was limp in his arms. Jack and Crutchie scuttled along behind, throwing glances back toward the crowd of people to make sure no one was following them.

"Why was she in there? Why?" Jack yelled angrily.

"Shut up, Jack," Crutchie said, using an unusually loud voice with his brother. "Davey's probably as upset as you. We'll figure it out!"

"She didn't start that fire," Davey growled. "She didn't. Because if she did, she is going to get it. Oh, boy, will she get it if I find out she started that fire." He added a few choice swear words under his breath as the group stumbled around the block to the Lodging House.

Mouse was aware of entering the Lodging House when its shadow fell over her face. She felt herself being laid gently in a bed near the door and heard both Davey and Jack muttering to themselves. Mouse kept her eyes closed. Her entire body seemed to be stiffening up, and a cruel pain ate away at the areas on her body that had been burned the worst—mostly her hands and feet. The pain crawled up her arms and made the skin on her legs feel tight. Crutchie's voice cut into the quiet.

"How bad is she burned?"

The muttering stopped, and the pause dragged on into a dreadful silence. None of them seemed to want to know. But after a while, there was no choice but to find out.

To Mouse's horror, she felt her ragged, singed clothes being slowly torn away. She felt the gentle hands of her brother, but that comfort couldn't stop the pain. The cloth was stuck to her skin in some places, and when it was ripped away she felt tears leak from her closed eyes. At least Davey had the sense to leave her torso and waist covered. "She needs new clothes," he croaked. "Whatever tatters she's still got there are probably still hot."

_Sure, but it's nothing compared to the real burns._ Mouse couldn't concentrate on anything but the scorching pain.

"I've got a short-sleeved shirt that buttons down the front," Jack said. "It'll probably be easier for her to get on."

"I'll get some old shorts for her," Crutchie said, and the two hurried off. In their absence, Davey leaned close to Mouse's face.

"Mouse. Haddie. Wake up. Please, wake up."

_I'm already awake, you dummy._

"Haddie, I swear to you…"

Mouse opened her eyes. Davey breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness." After a moment his eyes narrowed. "You've been awake this whole time, haven't you?" Mouse tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace. The pain was just too much. "Do you know how much trouble you're in right now?"

Jack thundered down the stairs, with Crutchie a ways behind him. "She's awake?"

"Has been the whole time," Davey scowled.

"Well, she's going to get a talking-to as soon as she puts these on." Jack took the shorts from Crutchie and tossed the clothes onto the bed. "Davey will help you. Make it quick, because I'm mad."

"Oh, don't worry, so am I," Davey added.

"Um, guys? Don't you think we should worry about taking care of Mouse's burns before we get all upset with her?" Crutchie was being the voice of reason. Mouse gave him a grateful glance, then had to give all her attention to trying to maneuver her horribly burnt hands, arms, and feet into her temporary clothes.

"No, I think—"

"Because I think it's kind of more important."

"She should have thought of that—"

"Jack, look at her. She's in pain." Mouse happened to be biting her tongue at the moment to try and stop the tears from streaming down her face as her scorched hand brushed against the fabric.

Jack softened a little, but not much. "Well—well, okay, but what does a fella do with that bad of burns?"

Crutchie seemed just as lost. "Um…maybe…cold water?"

"We don't have any, and besides, I think it's a little late for that."

Davey finished helping Mouse and she collapsed on the bed, wincing. "She needs some kind of burn ointment. Do you think Katherine has any?" he asked Jack.

He shrugged. "Probably. She's got a whole cabinet full of medicines and stuff."

"You guys go get that," Crutchie directed.

"Why don't you, Crutchie?"

"I'm slower than you. And besides, as soon as I leave you'se gonna start yellin' at the poor kid. Just give her a break."

"What if she doesn't deserve one?" Jack snarled, rounding on Mouse. "It's her own fault!"

"Maybe if you would've watched her…"

"Don't get me started!" Jack said. "I've told her time and time again not to wander off and look what happens when she does!"

"Mouse, what have I said about being responsible?" Now Davey was joining in.

"Do you get it now? Do you get it?" Jack yelled.

"Just tell me it wasn't you," Davey said in a low, dangerous voice. "Tell me the fire was an accident. Tell me you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just tell me something!"

_It _was_ an accident. I _was_ in the wrong place at the wrong time. But I still did it._

"Or write it down, if you wanna play the silent game!" Davey shouted.

That stung. Mouse hated when he made her silence seem like something she could choose.

"She can't write, her hands are too burned!" Crutchie exclaimed, but Davey got her the utensils anyway. Mouse tried to hold the pencil, but the skin on her hand was raw. She dropped it. Davey picked it up and positioned it between her fingers. Mouse had barely brought it to the paper when it slipped from her hands again.

"It doesn't matter, it's a yes or no question anyway," Jack said. Mouse was panting; the pain intensified every second. All eyes were on her.

"Mouse," Davey asked calmly. "Did you start the fire at the factory?"

_Yes, but—_

"Answer me."

_It wasn't my fault!_

"I'm waiting."

_It was an accident!_

"Mouse?"

_I didn't mean to!_

"Now."

If only she could explain! Slowly, Mouse nodded, squeezing her eyes shut so she didn't have to see their reactions, since she couldn't explain further.

Indignant shouts came from Davey and Jack, and Crutchie was quick to push them outside. "She needs that ointment!" he yelled after them, and slammed the door. "Mouse, it's okay…I'm sure there was a reason…or maybe it was an accident…"

Mouse nodded eagerly through her tears, but Crutchie didn't see.

He pulled up a chair beside the bed and gently took one of her hands in his. Mouse felt more tears fall. She didn't try to stop them as he continued to slowly examine her burns. They sat there in the silence, Mouse wishing she could cry out. Somehow, in her mind, that would relieve the pain.

"They don't hate you," Crutchie said presently.

_Well, that's reassuring._

"They're just angry because they couldn't protect you this time. And it turned out to be a time when you needed protection."

_Yeah, seems so._

"Mouse." Crutchie's voice was strained. "When you came out…you just looked so small. We was all really scared. Like, really. When you fell to your knees…" he shuddered. "You was still burning. All your clothes was smoking. And you looked so lost…I don't ever wanna see you like that again."

**Reviews are highly appreciated.**

**-Sis21K**


	7. On Burns

**Um. I haven't gone through and edited this, so I hope it flows fairly well.**

**I just wanted to give a big THANK YOU to my awesome reviewers, especially those of you who take the time to review most every chapter. I really appreciate it, I can't tell you how much those reviews make my day, seriously.**

Mouse wasn't aware of falling asleep, only of waking—sometimes from her grumbling stomach, which had missed lunch; other times from the blinding pain of the burnt skin all over her body. Still other times, nightmares caused her to bolt out of sleep. It was usually the same reoccurring nightmare she'd always had, but now new visions crept into her dreams, visions of flames and smoke, accompanied by the smell of burnt metal and worse—burnt skin.

When she finally woke up completely, the sun was setting low in the sky. Crutchie still sat by her bed and noticed immediately when her eyelids fluttered. "How are you feeling, Mouse?"

She shrugged, though in truth the pain had hardly subsided.

"I don't know where Davey and Jack are," Crutchie said, glancing at the door. "They've been gone for hours. It can't take that long to get—"

Just then the door banged open and a stream of chattering newsies flowed in, done with the day's selling.

"Heya, Crutch!"

"You hear about the factory?"

"Man! That thing went down in flames!"

"Hey, why're you here so early, Crutchie?"

"Who's that—"

Suddenly they went silent, catching a glimpse of Mouse in the bed.

_What? Is there something on my face? _She rolled her eyes.

"Was she…?" Mush trailed off.

Crutchie took a deep breath. "She was in the fire."

"Oh…damn…" It was the first time Mouse had ever heard Les swear.

_Jeez, Les, I can't look that bad._

"You look…really bad…"

Suddenly there was a burst of talking.

"What was she doing in there?"

"How'd she manage that?"

"Does she know how it got started?"

"They'se saying it was—"

The door slammed open again. This time it was Jack and Davey. "We got it," Davey panted, holding up a small jar of ointment victoriously.

"Took us long enough," Jack muttered, snatching it from him and pushing through the crowd of newsies to Mouse's bed. "Katherine didn't have any, so we had to sneak some money from Pulitzer's place and go buy it—after Katherine made us stop at the library and do some research on burns and stuff—"

"Why'd you sneak money from Pulitzer?" Crutchie asked, standing up and letting Jack take the chair. "Why didn't you just have Katherine ask for it?"

"Well, first off because Pulitzer isn't the money-givin' type," Jack said, struggling to unscrew the jar lid. "He would've asked what she needed it for, and since he's probably already heard about the fire…" He tapped the jar on the table and tried twisting again. It wouldn't come off. "…well, let's just say we didn't want to give him any lead as to who started it."

This comment sent a wave of shock through the group of newsies now crowded around Mouse's bed. "Wait, what?"

"_She_ started the fire?"

"Mouse? _Our_ Mouse?"

"Yeah, she did," Jack spat, twisting the lid harder, "And you'se all gonna keep real quiet about it, you hear?"

"She's already in a load of trouble for it, too, so don't any of you go pulling tricks like that," Davey added severely.

_Not my fault, _Mouse sang in her head.

"So anyway, after an hour or two of paging through books, we go to get the stuff, and the store's out of it!" He had stopped trying to open the jar, being so frustrated at the memory.

"We had to go all the way to Brooklyn to find a place that had it," Davey finished.

"Good thing you'se on good terms with ole Spot, eh Jack?" Race called.

"Sure it is," Jack said. "Them Brooklyn boys _respect_ me!" He thumped on his chest, and Davey took the ointment from him exasperatedly and twisted the top off in one try.

"Anyway, you guys stay outta the way. We gotta put this stuff all over her burns, and it ain't gonna be a pretty sight."

The newsies dispersed; only Les stayed behind and crept up closer. "Is she okay, Davey?" he asked in a small voice.

"Yeah. She'll be fine."

"Are you really mad at her?"

Davey sighed. "I'm just frustrated, that's all."

Jack directed Mouse to sit up. She moved to the chair. "Better for circulation or something. Katherine found it in a book."

He knelt beside her and took her hand. The ointment stung a little. Jack's hands were gentle, and the ointment soon felt cold against her skin. He rubbed it sparingly all the way up her arms, where the skin was red. "You wanna help, Les?" Jack asked when he was done with her hands and arms.

Les nodded and crawled off Davey's lap, who was sitting on the bed, supervising. Jack showed him how to rub it gently on her feet. Les took the jar and began to do it just as Jack had showed him. Jack watched, then nodded. "Good job. Keep doing that all over the burns, then ask her if there's any other places she needs it. Be careful not to use too much of it, 'cause that's all we got. When he's done, go to sleep, Mouse," Jack said, touching her shoulder.

It seemed the older boys had mostly forgiven her. They left Les with Mouse and went upstairs to join the other newsies.

There was a minute of silence. Les seemed reluctant to break it. "Mouse…Haddie…whoever you are in there…"

Mouse smiled. _Just your sister, little brother. That's all._

"Why did you go in there?"

Les stopped rubbing the ointment on to look imploringly into her eyes.

Mouse looked away.

Les sighed and went back to rubbing. "It had to do with why you stopped talking, didn't it? It had to do with your old job at the factory, didn't it? Well?"

_It had everything to do with that. But it didn't work._

"Did you think it would help you start talking again?"

_Yes._

"Well?!" There was a tearful note in Les's voice.

Mouse nodded.

"I knew it. But it didn't work, did it? I'm sorry, Haddie."

_Me too._

"Did you really start the fire?" Les didn't sound angry or upset. Just curious.

Mouse nodded again.

"On purpose?"

_No. That's what I've been trying to say! _ She shook her head forcefully.

"That's what I thought. It was an accident."

Another nod.

"I don't know why Davey and Jack were so mad at you. It was just an accident."

_Yes. Yes! Finally, someone understands me!_

"But we'll have to be careful. Folks are looking for the person who caused it. They know it's a girl. If they see your burns, they might know it's you. You're the only one who got hurt, I think."

Mouse felt dizzy.

"That's what I think. A couple of us were hanging around the factory after the fire was put out, you know, and heard people talking." He paused. "It was bad, Mouse. The whole place was almost burned to the ground."

_I didn't mean to. See what happens when I try to make myself talk again? Maybe it's better to just stay silent._

"I wish you could talk to me. It's kind of lonely, being the youngest brother and all." Les helped Mouse into bed. In the moment she stood carefully on her heels, where the skin was burned least, she realized how much Les had grown recently. He was barely an inch shorter than her now.

"You'll talk. Someday, I know you will!"

That night, Mouse's nightmares got worse. She lost count of how many times she bolted out of sleep, her burns searing, blinking away alternating images of blood and flames.

She thought it couldn't get any worse.

She was wrong.

**I was thinking about putting one of those trivia things in here next chapter. Whaddya think?!**

**Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed, please review!**

**-Sis21K**

**(Oh, and don't forget to go join the Newsies Pape Selling Competition! As in, _my team still has an open spot!_)**


	8. The Headline

**It's late and I'm tired and this probably isn't the best but it's important, so enjoy anyway!**

Mouse sat in bed, cold and stiff, for hours before Jack came down to wake everyone up. He didn't seem surprised to see her wide awake, but when she started to get out of bed, he shook his head. "You'se staying home today."

_What? That's dumb. I'm perfectly fine._

She frowned and tried to push past him, to no avail. "You heard me. You'se probably still shaky from the fire and I ain't having you out selling!"

Mouse motioned forcefully with her hands. _I'm not shaky! I'm fine! _If only she could hold a pencil! Not being able to write down her arguments was taking a toll on her.

Jack hesitated. "Well…you know people might be looking for you, right? Trying to catch you, for starting the fire?" Mouse nodded; she didn't care about that. She just wanted to go out and sell like it was a normal day and act like she hadn't just burned down a factory. "I don't want you locked up in the—well, there's no more Refuge, but Snyder's still out roamin' the streets."

Mouse shrugged.

Jack seemed to have known she would argue her way into selling, because he gave in pretty easily. "All right, if you say so. You can sell—under one condition."

_What would that be?_

"We gotta bandage your hands."

_Oh…_

The bright white bandages were probably more noticeable than the burned skin would have been, but Mouse couldn't really argue. Even the slightest touch against the tender red skin sent pain racing up her arms, and the bandages prevented that from happening. He wrapped them so tightly that she could barely move her fingers—Jack had clearly had experience in wrapping wounds. When the bandages were stiff, Jack gave her one of his own long-sleeved shirts to wear for the day.

"Guess you'll be fine," he finally said, taking a good look at her. His anger from the day before had nearly evaporated. Jack couldn't stay angry at someone for very long. He nudged Mouse's hat down over her eyes and led the newsies out the door. Mouse hurried to catch up. She shook the too-long sleeves over her bandaged hands and tried not to wince at the pain in her burnt feet every time she took a step.

She walked beside Les but kept an eye on Davey and Jack, who were huddled together at the front of the group as they approached the circulation desk. Les slung an arm around Mouse's shoulder and started talking about—well, something. Mouse wasn't really paying attention. She just smiled and nodded in all the right places. Les finally realized she wasn't listening and sighed in frustration.

"But the pretty one _said_ she'd kiss me!" he exclaimed, and suddenly Mouse wished she'd been listening.

The Delanceys were just coming over to unlock the gate, and the headline was just going up. Mouse squinted to read the chalked letters, knowing which mood a good or bad headline would put the others in. Before the first word had been written, though, she felt a shove that nearly knocked her to the ground.

_What the—oh…_

It was Jack, looking panicked as he grabbed her by the collar and practically dragged her down the block and around a corner.

_Um…what's going on?_

Jack was ignoring her quizzical looks. He pressed her into a wall and peeked back down the street.

_What was that for? _

She wanted him to explain, but he was just peering around the corner. "Shoulda known, shoulda thought of that! Ugh!" he muttered, holding her up against the wall. Mouse was indignant. _Thought of what?!_

A chain rattled—the Delanceys unlocking the gate—and the usual chatter between the newsies swelled…and then was cut off. Jack groaned. "Stay here!" he ordered, then ran off.

Of course, Mouse couldn't just stay there. He had dragged her off, pinned her against a wall, and now left her alone, a block away from the newsies? How could this be safe? Mouse only waited a moment before following him. Jack was sprinting, but Mouse stayed in the shadows. As she approached, she squinted at the headline…and immediately realized why Jack had whisked her away.

FIRE DESTROYS FACTORY

And then…the subtitle…

UNKNOWN GIRL TO BLAME

Mouse self-consciously made sure her bandages were well covered by the long sleeves, then ran the rest of the distance to the circulation desk, keeping her head down.

Jack had gathered all the newsies in a group by the time she got there. "I told you to stay there," he said, but didn't really seem mad. Davey grabbed her arm and pulled her close to him. The newsies were muttering amongst themselves. Slowly, hesitantly, they turned to the young girl and explained.

"You see, Mouse, it's a great story."

"We could make loads off it."

"But the thing is, the more people who read it, the more people will be looking for you."

"But nobody really knows who you are."

"Yeah, says this guy from the factory describes you as 'short, brown-haired, with freckles.' That's just about the most average description you can get." Race had already gotten his papes and was reading off the article. He looked up curiously. "Do you even have freckles?"

"The point is, we want you to give us the okay before we start sellin' the headline."

_My…opinion?_

"Because it's a good headline and all, but we won't sell it if you don't want the whole world to know."

"Nobody could possibly know it's you."

"Well, one thing's for certain, Mouse. You're not selling today." This was Davey.

"Hold on, Davey, give her a break. It'll be better for her to sell," Jack argued.

"I think not!"

"If she doesn't, people will notice, namely Weasel over there, as well as our good friends, the Delancey brothers."

Davey couldn't argue. "Okay, fine."

"So what's it gonna be, Mouse?" The newsies looked so excited at the prospect of a good headline.

"You let us sell it, we won't let your secret out."

"They won't even if you don't want them to sell it," Davey said urgently.

Mouse closed her eyes. How could she say no?

"You gonna let us use the headline?"

Mouse nodded.

The newsies erupted in cheers and raced to get in line to buy their papes, stopping only to give Mouse grateful thumps on the back and enthusiastic hugs. Mouse smirked a little. Only newsies could get so excited about words on a page.

The Delanceys and Weisel didn't seem to suspect a thing. They didn't think it strange when Les took her papers for her and put them in her bag, just so she wouldn't have to use her hands. And the people who bought Mouse's papes that morning? No one took a second glance.

No one, that is, except...someone. Someone in the shadows was watching her. Someone noticed how her eyes kept flicking in the direction of the factory, how she kept reading and rereading the article, just to make sure nobody knew the truth. Someone saw how she kept shaking her sleeves down. Someone got a glimpse of her bandaged hands.

Someone crept off in the direction of Pulitzer's office. Someone had a deal to make.

**I know I said I'd have a trivia or something at the end of this chapter, but honestly I'm so tired I can't really think straight. I'll put one at the end of the next chapter for sure, because why not?**

**Please review!**

**-Sis21K**


	9. The Bottom Line

**Another late update, sorry!**

Joseph Pulitzer stood with his back to his office door, looking out his window over the city. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his sharp gaze swept over the streets of New York. He was waiting…waiting…

There. The muffled footsteps in the corridor that indicated a visitor. He didn't move from his thoughtful position, even as a heavy knock sounded at the door.

"Come in."

A man with slick black hair entered, breathing heavily and looking as though he hadn't slept in days. He slammed the door behind him and stomped eagerly towards Pulitzer, who hadn't even turned around.

Not a moment later, the door flew open again, and Hannah, Pulitzer's secretary, came in looking indignant and ruffled. "Pushed me out of the way, no respect at all, can't he see you're busy?" she rambled in her high-pitched, nasally voice.

"I don't have time for courtesy!" the man retaliated. "This was—is—important!"

Pulitzer finally turned around. "That's quite enough. Hannah, we shall forgive such an obtrusion just this once. I was expecting such a visitor anyhow."

Hannah opened her mouth to retaliate, but then snapped it shut, whirled around, and stalked out.

Pulitzer closed the door gently behind her. He slowly walked to his desk and busied himself straightening papers. He could practically feel the impatience radiating off the sour-looking man before him. The quiet dragged on for a moment more, carefully controlled by Pulitzer. When he was ready, he would speak, and the man knew that, though he didn't like it.

Finally Pulitzer raised his eyes. "You have information, Mr. Snyder?"

A slow grin spread across Snyder's face. "Ah, yes. Yes, I most certainly do."

"The story that made the front page of my paper had an underlying mystery that I want solved," Pulitzer said firmly. He paused. "You believed you could assist me. You doubted you would let me down, as you did last time I asked."

Snyder winced at the reminder. "Those things are…in the past. I've served my time. I am free to do whatever I want to those little street rats."

"So long as you don't open up the Refuge," Pulitzer added.

"Yes. Of course there was that minor setback. Can't even go near the premises. But that's neither here nor there." Snyder leaned forward, leering. "I found out some things that may interest you."

"About the child who quite possibly started that fire?"

"Yes. You thought she was—"

"I can remember my thoughts quite well myself, thank you," Pulitzer snapped. "Witnesses identified several of _my _newsboys taking the girl away with them. Apparently they seemed to know her quite well. Almost like brothers."

"So you sent me to do some snooping around."

"I would prefer to use the word _observing_, Mr. Snyder. Such atrocious vocabulary could get us in trouble." He paused to let his insult sink in. "I would usually leave such investigation to the police, of course, but if people discover that one of _my _newsies, someone associated with _me_, started that fire…well, there's no telling what that would do to my image. Especially after the little rascals made such a big splash with that strike business. Ugh. So naturally, I decided to take measures into my own hands. If it _is _one of my newsies, I will take care of it myself. The public will never hear a word. Such bad behavior will be addressed…ah…quietly."

Snyder nodded slowly. "Naturally, naturally. And, Mr. Pulitzer…my _observations _yielded quite interesting results."

"Hmm…did they now? Let's hear what you have."

"There is a girl with them now. Pretty young, brown hair—basically matches the paper's description. So from what I could tell, she's quite close to—get this—Jack Kelly."

"Intriguing. But I'm not surprised. That boy as a long history with us. Jack has no record of siblings, does he, Mr. Snyder?"

"No, no. But I'm pretty sure she's related to some of the others. That runty one, and the tall one that's always shooting off his mouth?"

"The Jacobs. Of course. And I know for a fact that they have a sister. It certainly makes sense. But what makes you so sure that the girl is their sister?"

"A few things. Namely because of some comments I was able to overhear...they both referred to her a few times using a normal name rather than the nickname the others call her..."

"But you're fairly certain that this girl is the one who was so artfully described in my paper?"

"Yes."

"How can you be so sure?"

"She's got burns."

"You saw them?"

"Saw the bandages. Wore a long sleeve shirt to hide them."

"She could have been any young worker who was caught in the fire."

"But she's not. When the headline came out, the one about the fire, Jack Kelly rushed her away as soon as he saw it. Like he was hiding her. He called the other boys to discuss something before they even purchased their day's papers."

"Hmm...is that all?"

"No! I have more!" Snyder sounded desperate to please Pulitzer. "She kept glancing at the factory, the whole day. And...there's another thing. She wears a sign, I remember seeing her even before she became so interesting. She can't talk!" he exclaimed, grinning as thought this should be huge news.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Pulitzer asked disdainfully.

"Everything! Kids stop talking when they're hiding something, when they know they've done something wrong! Saw it all the time in my Refuge!"

"But you said you'd seen her wearing that sign even before she allegedly set the factory on fire."

Snyder hesitated. "Well...yeah. But doesn't that bring up another question?"

"And what question would that be?"

"Why was she in the factory in the first place? She works as a newsie, as far as we know she doesn't know anyone in the factory, so why did she take the time out of her day to sneak over there and start a fire? Bad memories, perhaps? Or a longing to right a past wrong? Ooh, I'd just love to get her locked up for something in addition to the fire!"

"Not so fast, Mr. Snyder, we haven't even spoken to the child yet. And that is what she is, after all. A child."

"Children may be revolting, but they can think and reason well enough to get revenge."

"I understand. I would like to get her to tell us what she has done. A direct confession from the accused would be best before we go pointing fingers at possibly innocent little girls. I won't have my reputation tarnished any more than it is on account of Jack Kelly."

"And the deal?" Snyder asked hungrily.

"Is on standby, Mr. Snyder until I can get her here myself. But don't worry. I have a plan, and if all goes well, the girl-what did you say her name was?"

"I believe I forgot to mention it. She goes by Mouse as a newsie."

"Quite fitting. Well, if all goes well, young Mouse will be here this evening to have a little chat."

"And if she will not speak?"

"If she will not speak, I will put my alternate plan into effect, one that requires no speaking on her part. It may take several days, but if I can gain her trust, we will definitely receive a written confession from the young girl herself." He chuckled. "I believe I can worm a simple answer out of a little girl. If she did start the fire, she will be...shall we say...in trouble. That's the bottom line."

**As promised, here's a little...not trivia, but more like an opinion for all of my readers. So the question is, who do you think is the biggest villain in Newsies? Is it Pulitzer? Is it Snyder? The Delanceys? Someone else? Who do you guys think is the worst?**

**Please review! Thanks!**

**-Sis21K**


	10. Snyder the Spider

**Hey guys! Thanks to all of you who answered my question from the last chapter. I agree, Snyder is the worst, and now I'm starting to feel a little bad for bringing him into this...oh well...**

**I know this is a little short but let's celebrate because we're at ten chapters! Woot woot! And I'll hopefully be able to get another one up really soon.**

The next day, Mouse's hands still hurt, but she could hold a pencil. Her handwriting was spiky and barely readable, but it was better than nothing. She considered telling Davey and Jack the truth about how the fire had started, but ultimately decided it was too late. They were pretty much over being mad at her anyway, and if she tried to tell them now, they would just think she was making excuses.

Instead, she used her healing hands to write a message to Les in the margin of one of her papes. I WANT TO GO SEE THE FACTORY.

He read it and frowned at her. "Why would you want to go there?"

She just crossed her arms.

Les glanced over at Jack, who wasn't paying any attention to them, and then leaned in closer. "Okay. We'll go after lunch."

Mouse quickly scribbled down another message and nudged him. DON'T TELL JACK.

Les rolled his eyes. "You think I'm stupid or what?"

At lunch they ate quickly and Les thought up some story about Mouse wanting to see Brooklyn. Jack thought this was about the dumbest idea ever, laughing when Les brought it up, but he let them go, with a strict warning not to cross the bridge. Davey was so caught up playing some sort of card game with Race that he didn't even notice his siblings slip out the door.

Les glanced over his shoulder and hoped Jack didn't notice them going in the opposite direction of Brooklyn.

"Remind me why you want to see this place?" he groaned. "It's not gonna be pretty, Mouse. Trust me."

Mouse ignored him and ran faster.

As they neared the remains of the factory, Les urged Mouse to pull her hat down to put her face in shadow and shake down her sleeves a bit more, but she barely heard him. Some kind of strange fascination and horror that she would never be able to explain pulled her toward the factory, and she could not stop running.

And then they were there…and there was no factory…it was gone…no workers would ever enter again…and the remains were black and twisted…and passerby stared at the ruins…and Mouse could see the exact place that the tiny boy had sold her the match…the stupid match…why a match, of all things? And then Mouse realized…she had caused all this damage…she had put dozens of children out of a job…those same children were probably starving because of her…if only she hadn't gone back…why she had gone back, she'd never know…to speak again? It seemed a pathetic excuse now…nothing could help her…it was the same horrific fascination that had tugged her to the burnt remains of the factory, she realized…something had drawn her to the place she had nightmares about every night…

Mouse stood in front of the twisted metal ruins, her mouth agape, looking pale. Les stood beside her, looking at her nervously. Mouse was known to do impulsive things when she was upset, and by the looks of it, she was very upset.

Before he could say anything, a silky voice came from behind them.

"Well, well, well."

Les yelped and whirled around; Mouse grabbed his arm and turned around too. Behind them leered Snyder the Spider, grinning at their fright. Mouse remembered her bandaged hands too late; in grabbing Les's arm she had exposed the white wrappings quite obviously. She pulled her sleeve down and prayed he hadn't noticed, even though she knew he had by the way his eyes lingered there. Mouse didn't know who he was, but anyone who could display such greed and viciousness behind his eyes was not someone she wanted taking an interest in her burned hands.

Les recognized him right away, and raised a shaking, accusatory finger. "You'se Snyder the Spider! You'se supposed to be in jail!"

"Is that what they call me these days? Well, it seems my sentence went by fairly quickly, don't you think?" He chuckled darkly.

Les bravely raised his finger to Snyder's face. "Get away from us!"

"Be careful where you point that finger, young man." He casually pulled out a pocket knife and flipped it open. Les quickly withdrew his hand, but Snyder toyed with him, picking something out from under his own crusty nail with the sharp tip. "One wrong move and my hand just might slip. This thing is beautiful in its simplicity. Bet it could cut through a young boy's thumb easier than slicing a carrot." He snapped the pocket knife shut. "Oh, that's right, I'm not supposed to be intimidating you. My mistake."

"Whaddya want?" Les squeaked.

"Many things, boy, many things, but at this moment, I'm just going to need your sister here to come to Pulitzer's office."

Les immediately clutched Mouse's shirt and pulled her closer to him. _As if I'm going anywhere, idiot! _"No way."

"You're a curious one, boy. I thought your first question would be 'why."

Les narrowed his eyes. "Are you going to tell us, then?"

"Mr. Pulitzer would like to meet with her. _The _Mr. Pulitzer, if you don't remember. The man who's the reason you street rats can scrape a living each day. In other words—your boss. And if your boss requests a meeting with you, you can bet your bottom dollar that you're going to that meeting. You don't ever turn down an invitation from your boss. Remember that. It'll serve you well in life."

"She's not going."

"I think young Mouse can decide for herself. Can't you, girl?" Snyder leaned close to her. She could smell his rank breath. She flinched as he slowly ran his big dirty thumb down the side of her face.

"Don't touch her!" Les yelled.

Snyder ignored him and moved his hand to touch her hair. "She'll come."

"Not with you."

"She'll come if her boss requests to see her. Which he has. So you'll be there, won't you, Mouse?" Snyder slowly moved his hand down her chin and onto her neck. Mouse swallowed. "Mr. Pulitzer is expecting you." He was touching her chest. "After you've sold all your papers today. No rush. He told me to tell you." His fingers began to slowly creep down her shirt. "But make sure you're there, or—"

Mouse slapped Snyder hard and ran.

Her hand stung from the impact but the adrenaline kept her running. Les caught up quickly and together they sprinted. "Just go, just go!" he panted, and Mouse ran a little faster.

Finally they slowed to a stop, back in front of the bakery. Jack was just coming out. Les whispered quickly in Mouse's ear before Jack came over to them. "The thing is, you've got to go, or you'll be in even more trouble!" Mouse nodded miserably. "Just stay close to Jack and Snyder won't bother you anymore today. But Mouse, how are you gonna go without being noticed?"

Mouse didn't know any more than he did.

**Thank you for reading, sorry for all the cliffhangers, and please review!**

**-Sis21K**


	11. A Visit With Pulitzer

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

Les was a big help in getting Mouse to Pulitzer's office. He of all people knew how important it was, and neither he nor Mouse wanted Snyder breathing down their necks. "I'm just afraid it's a set-up. What if Snyder's just waiting for you there?" But Mouse wouldn't let him tell anyone or come with her.

Les fed another lie to Jack as soon as Mouse was done selling for the day. "I think she's sick…she almost threw up at lunch and…um…she's been really tired all day…"

Jack frowned and felt Mouse's forehead. Mouse tried to look pitiful. "You sure? Well, it's probably still shock wearing off from the fire, and all her burns and stuff…Okay, go upstairs and try to sleep, then." Mouse slumped off while Jack went to tell Davey.

Mouse decided to wait a few minutes after reaching the top floor of the Lodging House, and it was a good thing she did, because Davey came up to check on her soon after. "You been feeling like this all day? I told you, you shoulda taken it easy after the fire." Davey shook his head. "Well, get some rest. I'll leave you be."

As soon as the door shut, Mouse jumped up and rushed onto the rooftop. The ladder was difficult to climb down with her stiff, bandaged hands, but she managed to hang on until she was only a few feet off the ground. She stood up, brushed herself off, and hurried in the direction of Pulitzer's office.

In a matter of minutes, she stood outside, unsure of how to enter. With a deep breath, Mouse approached the door and knocked.

It swung open seconds later, and Pulitzer's secretary stood inside. "Oh! It's you." She took Mouse's arm and pulled her inside, upstairs, and down a hallway. Mouse would never be able to find her way out again.

"Mr. Pulitzer! The little girl is here to see you!" Hannah sang out in her nasally voice.

"Come in," came the voice from behind the door.

Pulitzer sat at his desk, stroking his beard.

It took Mouse a moment to see Snyder, who was lurking in the shadows behind him. She gulped and backed away, but Pulitzer stood and held his arms out to her.

"I see Mr. Snyder was a little cruel to you today," he said sharply. Snyder rolled his eyes. "Well, never mind that. You know, Mouse," he said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder, "some people will try to use you in this world. You must learn to recognize and accept them, perhaps avoiding them, but never…" he cleared his throat. "…slapping them." Mouse looked at her feet. _He deserved it. He of all people deserved to be hit. _"But enough of that!" Pulitzer said, leading her over to his desk. "I have a proposition for you. Sit down, my dear, and hear me out…"

* * *

Les was crawling into bed, mid-yawn, when he heard the shout from upstairs. "She's gone _again_!"

Jack came thundering down the stairs, where Davey met him, looking horror-struck. Jack pushed past him and stomped straight over to Les, shaking a finger in the younger boy's face. "You said she was sick—she wasn't sick, was she? Tell me! Now!"

Les faltered. "I…well, it's just…"

"Where is she?!"

"She went to Pulitzer's," Les mumbled.

"She went _where_?!" Davey yelled.

Suddenly Les burst into tears. "Pulitzer's! We met Snyder when we were looking at the factory and he said she had to go and you wouldn't ever let her so we said she was sick so she could g-go!"

Jack's voice was suddenly low. "When were you looking at the factory? I thought you said you were going to see Brooklyn!"

"I lied, okay? She wanted to see the factory and I couldn't say no!"

"She's not sick, is she?"

"No," Davey cut in. "That was a lie, too." Davey came marching over to them and looking down at Les. He shook his head. "I'm disappointed in you, Les. I thought you knew better."

"The truth wouldn't have done her any good!" Les screamed through his tears.

"Well, now she's out roaming the city by herself—with Snyder on the loose!—and you know what happened last time we lost Mouse?" Jack asked. "Huh? You remember that, Les?"

Les sniffed. "She got burned."

"Oh, this is bad, this is really bad," Davey said, pacing. The other newsies stared at them, unsure whether to help or stay out of the way. "We gotta go get her, Jack. She could be anywhere."

"I know."

"She knows the way to Pulitzer's—"

"Did I ask you?!" roared Davey. Les recoiled, looking hurt. Davey couldn't spare any sympathy for him. "We gotta go."

"And you'se coming with us," Jack snarled, grabbing Les's shirt and pulling him to his feet. "So we can reprimand both of you'se together."

"I think Les should stay here," Crutchie offered. "Because last time you two got angry—"

"That don't matter."

"Well, then maybe I should come with too," Crutchie said.

Race piped up, "I'll go too."

The others were quick to volunteer as well. "Me too! Me too!"

"No!" Jack roared. "Ugh, no! Crutchie, you'se staying here to look after the rest of them. All of you is staying here, all right?!" He took a breath. "Davey and Les and me will go get her, and then we'll come back. Simple as pie."

"And you're gonna yell at me," Les muttered.

"And don't tell me you don't deserve it," Jack said. "Now, let's go."

* * *

"I wanted you to meet my daughter, Katherine. Perhaps your friend…Jack Kelly…has spoken of her?" Mouse didn't like the way Pulitzer said Jack's name. She hesitated, then shook her head, hoping he couldn't see the lie in her eyes. Of course she knew Katherine, though they had never met. Jack talked about her all the time. Pulitzer frowned, then shrugged. "Well, I wanted you to meet my darling Katherine, who's a reporter and rather close to Mr. Kelly, but unfortunately she's away for a few days. Not too far, of course, just over in Brooklyn, but I couldn't bear to drag her away from work. However, she agreed to become your…friend."

_My…friend?_

"You two will be able to correspond through letters over the next few days. Would you like that?"

_Someone I could tell the truth to…_

"I suggested you could start this very evening. I have a personal mailbox near the circulation desk, and by tomorrow morning there will be a special compartment in which you can slip your letters. This will be checked several times a day, and I will have it personally delivered to Katherine, so we don't have to bother with the postal service."

Mouse had to admit, it sounded great. To be able to write to a young woman who might understand her!

"Does that sound like a good idea, Mouse? I'm sure you would love to write to a young lady who was once a girl just like yourself. Katherine is very kindhearted—oh, and she told me to tell you…" Pulitzer leaned a little closer. "She can keep a secret."

Mouse nodded her head vigorously.

It was almost too good to be true. She had come in, dreading the encounter and fearing some reprimand, but was instead given a pleasant offer by Pulitzer—who didn't seem nearly as bad as everyone said. Not a single word about the fire…he didn't even glance at her bandages…not a remark about the fact that she didn't speak…only that his daughter wanted her to be a pen pal, something Mouse, who had been pummeled with angry lectures and misunderstandings in the last few days, was grateful for.

Pulitzer was handing her fresh paper and two envelopes ("We'll just reuse them," he explained) when Jack and Davey burst through the door, with a tearful Les in tow. Mouse jumped when the door banged open, and turned around reproachfully. From further down the hallway, Hannah's high-pitched yells echoed faintly. "This is madness! People tearing into your office left and right without any respect for your work! Or me! This is getting out of hand!" Pulitzer raised an eyebrow.

Almost in unison, Jack and Davey both opened their mouths, taking in the scene, then closed them. Davey stared at the paper in Mouse's hand, shaking his head in wonder, while Jack glared at Pulitzer. Les met Mouse's eyes.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Pulitzer asked quietly.

"We was jus' wonderin' why Davey's little sista felt so inclined to be here that she snuck out and convinced Les to make up a lie so I wouldn't find out!" Jack exploded. Whenever he was angry, Mouse noticed, he managed to use bigger words while stressing his lower New York accent, something he probably didn't even notice.

"Well, Mouse and I just had some business to take care of, didn't we, sweet?" Mouse inched closer to her brothers.

"What kinda business?" Jack growled.

"Oh, not much." He smiled. "I'm sure Mouse will explain it to you if she wishes…Well, I must get back to work. Thank you, boys—and thank you, Mouse," he added in a much softer voice.

Davey frowned at him and grabbed Mouse's shoulder. Jack took Les by the shirt, and the two youngest were nearly dragged down the hallway while Pulitzer shut the door gently behind them.

Once they were on the street again, Mouse braced herself for a bunch of yelling, but it didn't come. Davey just seemed at a loss. "You know I'm disappointed in you—both of you," he said exhaustedly, letting go of Mouse's shoulder. "And our folks won't be too happy when they find out." Les and Mouse were already resigned to this; they just nodded.

Jack was also calmer now, adding to Mouse, "I don't suppose you'se gonna tell me what was goin' on in there? Why Pulitzer was bein' so nice to you? Why you gots all those papers?"

Mouse hesitated.

Then she shook her head. She would keep it to herself for now. _I just can't wait to get home and write a letter to Katherine! _She couldn't help but smile.

**Please review! Happy May Day!**

**-Sis21K**


	12. Letters to Katherine

**Hello again! Gosh, it's been forever. The community theatre musical I was in just ended on Sunday, which of course is depressing. But now I'll have more time to write, especially with summer just around the corner.**

**I'm sorry in advance for all the angst. However, you learn an important bit about Mouse in this chapter. It's extra long since I haven't been around lately.**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

* * *

Dear_ Katherine,_

_My name is Haddie Jacobs, but most everyone calls me Mouse. I'm staying with Jack, who you know, and the rest of the newsies because my parents are out of town. I know you are a reporter so I am working hard to spell everything right. I hope you write me back. I want to be your friend. Jack says you are very pretty and nice. He talks about you all the time. It's hard to live with all boys especially since I haven't seen my mother in a few days, so it's nice to write to another girl, well a lady, really. Will you tell me about your reporter job? I think it must be interesting because it's just writing things down for other people to read which is what I do anyway because I can't talk._

_From Mouse_

* * *

_Dear Mouse,_

_I'm so glad you want to be friends. Being a reporter is interesting but also difficult at times. I love to write though, so it will be nice for me to write something not related to my job. I am excited to learn more about you._

_Your spelling is very good, I was extremely impressed with your letter—however, I noticed your handwriting seems a bit uneven. I'm wondering if you hurt your hand, perhaps, and are unable to hold a pencil very well? I do hope you're all right._

_You wanted to know a little about being a reporter, and I'll tell you. I started out by going to vaudevilles and the like, watching them and giving reviews so people would know if they were good or not. I found this kind of work quite dull, to be honest. Then I somehow managed to get secured as the reporter on the newsboy strike—I'm sure you know all about that—and that's how I met Jack, incidentally. My father doesn't approve of my hanging around Jack and all the newsies, but of course he doesn't mind me helping out a poor young girl like you._

_Now, why don't you tell me some more about yourself? I'm curious as to why you're unable to talk—of course, you don't have to tell me if it's too personal, but I can keep a secret. I'll burn your letters if you'd like me to, and my lips are sealed. If you can't tell me that, maybe you could just tell me a story about a big event in your life. I can't wait to hear from you!_

_All the best,_

_Katherine_

* * *

"Whatcha readin', Mouse?" Davey asked casually. Mouse held the piece of paper to her chest and Davey sighed.

He walked away and Mouse continued reading. Jack gave him a shrug of sympathy. "Nice try."

"You'll keep trying to figure it out today, won't you?" Davey asked.

"'Course. Just gotta catch her off guard."

* * *

_Dear Katherine,_

_I think a reporter sounds like a fun job. I've never been to a vaudeville before, but if they're as dull as you say maybe I never will._

_I can't tell you why I can't speak because I just can't yet. It happened a long time ago and nobody knows about it but me. And it's not that I won't speak, like some people say, it's that I actually can't. I don't know why. I just haven't been able to for six years and that's just how it is._

_Also sorry about my handwriting, you're right, I did hurt my hands. They got burned, but they're getting better._

_I have to finish selling my papers now. Jack is glaring at me because I'm writing instead of selling._

_From Mouse_

* * *

"You writing a story, Mouse?" Jack was suddenly looming above her. She quickly shook her head. "Well, whatcha writing?" She shrugged. "Gotta be somethin' interesting. I see you're using that paper Pulitzer gave you. What's up with that, huh?" Mouse pushed him away, stuffed the letter in her bag, and walked determinedly up to an old lady, holding out a paper. Jack shook his head and went back to hawking headlines.

* * *

_Dear Mouse,_

_That's all right that you can't tell me why you can't speak—I understand. Sometimes there are things you just can't explain until the time is right. _

_I certainly hope your burned hands are getting better! What in the world happened? I hope the boys weren't playing with fire. I'll give Jack an earful if they had anything to do with your injury, though I'm sure if they did it would just be an accident. They're just as caring and kind as he is._

_I just had to tell you about this awful dream I had last night. There was a monster chasing me and my feet were stuck to the ground. I couldn't move or scream for help. As it got closer I fell over onto the ground and saw its shadow over me just before I woke up. Ugh, don't you hate those sort of dreams? They seem to haunt me all day—such a silly thing, I know._

_I'm sure you're as busy as I am, so I'll cut my letter short._

_-Katherine_

* * *

"She's been disappearing at lunchtime, just for a couple seconds," Jack reported when Mouse was safely in her bed, asleep.

Crutchie edged his way over to Davey and Jack, who were sitting, stumped. "I seen her put something in a little box below Pulitzer's personal mailbox."

"You coulda said that earlier!" Davey groaned.

"You think she's writing to Pulitzer?"

"She wouldn't do that."

"Yeah, she ain't that stupid."

"Well, she's writing to somebody. Mouse doesn't even seem to be thinking about anything but those letters she's getting. It's like she's lost track of time," Crutchie said worriedly.

Mouse had lost track of time. She didn't know how long it had been since she started writing Katherine. Time didn't seem to be measured in hours or days, but in the time between receiving and writing letters.

* * *

_Dear Katherine,_

_I had a nightmare last night too! Well, I have them every night, so it's nothing new for me. It's a reoccurring (I had to ask Jack how to spell that one) nightmare that I've never told anyone about, not least because I can't. I hope you can keep a secret and burn this letter, because it's a secret. In my dream, it usually starts out pretty normal. I go into this place I used to work. Sometimes I even have a little adventure with the other kids in my dream before the bad part starts. I hate thinking about it during the day, but since we're friends I thought I could tell you. Anyways, I go and pull the lever and then there's lots and lots of blood on the floor. I see their ghosts. Do you think that's normal? I don't even know what the people looked like but there are always figures there, swooping after me, sometimes even after I wake up._

_I can't scream, but Les usually wakes up when I do and goes to get Jack for me. If it's still late at night, Jack carries me up to the roof and I lay on the extra cot up there. Sometimes he tells me a story about Santa Fe to take my mind off the nightmare. He tells me to go to sleep, but I almost never can. If I do, I'm bound to wake up minutes later with the same images in my head. That's why I hate nighttime._

_From Mouse_

* * *

The newsies were worried about her. "She seems so withdrawn," Race mentioned to Jack, bringing their fears to him.

Albert piped up. "Why doesn't somebody just peek over her shoulder while she's writing?"

"Because she's got a sixth sense, that's why. Get within ten feet of her and whatever she's got is hidden before you can say 'Spot Conlon'."

"You say Pulitzer gave her all that paper?"

"Yeah, and she's been writing letters to someone. She puts em in his mailbox."

"She isn't writing to him, is she?"

"No way."

"But who's she writing to, then?"

This had them all stumped. "Maybe someone he knows," Davey said finally. "He's not all bad, not really. Maybe it's just something he's doing to try and get her to talk again. God knows the rest of us are."

"Davey, you saw Snyder there that night. Anything that monster's involved in isn't good."

"And it's not making her talk more," Romeo said. "If anything, she's avoiding us more."

"Maybe it's gotta get worse before it gets better," Davey said.

But even he sounded doubtful.

* * *

_Dear Mouse,_

_That sounds horrible. I only hope those reoccurring nightmares didn't stem from real events._

_-Katherine_

* * *

_Dear Katherine,_

_The bad part is, they did. It was six years ago. It was an accident. The big overseer told me to go turn on the machine. He was scary, so I listened to him. I didn't know there were people inside. When I came back out, there was so much blood on the floor and everyone was screaming. I never went back, no one knows it was me who killed all those people. I don't want anyone to know, because it haunts me to this day. It wasn't my fault…not really. Was it, Katherine? I keep telling myself it wasn't my fault, but maybe it was. I don't know anymore._

_-Mouse_

* * *

Mouse got into the habit of staying up late to read and write her letters to Katherine. The candlelight kept the others awake, so Jack told her she would have to start doing this on the roof. She didn't mind. He didn't really bother her about the letters anymore anyways.

* * *

_Dear Mouse,_

_Of course it wasn't your fault! You were only doing what you had been told, an admirable trait in little girls like you. I know I didn't always do what I was told when I was younger. Mouse, I'm sure it was an accident. But Mouse, does that have to do with why you don't speak? Is that why you went back to the factory?_

_-Katherine_

* * *

_Dear Katherine,_

_It has everything to do with that. But how did you know I went back to the factory? Katherine, I want to trust you. But I'm afraid I've told you too much. Please keep burning these letters, and you can't tell a soul, please promise me._

_-Mouse_

* * *

It had been several days. Mouse was only getting more reclusive. Jack tried everything he could think of to get her to tell him who she was writing to. There was an awful night when, after writing for an hour, she buried her head in her pillow. Jack watched from across the roof as her body shook with silent sobs. What was going on? If something didn't change soon, he was going to take all that paper and burn it up. Jack had this thought, but wasn't sure if he could actually act upon it. What if the loss of these letters made her go and do something stupid? Was it worth the risk?

* * *

_Dear Mouse,_

_Of course. I told my father to tell you that I can keep a secret, didn't I? As for knowing you went back to the factory, I just did a little reasoning. I heard there was a factory fire a few days ago, and you told me you burned your hands. You never told me how. It's all right, Mouse, it's nothing to be ashamed of._

_-Katherine_

* * *

_Dear Katherine,_

_You can't tell anybody! You can't! This is the most important thing I've ever told anyone. I only went back because I thought going there again would stop my nightmares. Well, it didn't. It just made me feel worse. I couldn't write after the fire, so Jack and Davey thought it was all my fault. It's true I started it, but it was an accident, I swear! There was a match in my bag, and I rubbed up against the wall and it ignited and suddenly everything was on fire. It was an accident, you have to believe me. And you can't tell anybody. I don't want to get in trouble for something I didn't mean to do._

_-Mouse_

* * *

Mouse didn't fall asleep at all one night. The next morning, she was too exhausted to even drag herself out of bed. Jack tried to help her to the ladder that led back down into the Lodging House, but soon gave up. He carried her back to the cot and told her to sleep. She shook her head, eyes wide, and having seen this reaction from other traumatized kids, knew it was the nightmares. "You're so tired that you'll go into a deep sleep, and you can't dream in deep sleep. Don't worry. I promise." He wasn't entirely sure this was true, but it sounded very scientific, and it at least got Mouse to close her eyes.

Later she snuck out and found another letter that made her heart jump to her throat.

* * *

_Dear Mouse,_

_I've been very busy lately, and I'm afraid we won't be able to write as often. I'm glad we were able to learn more about each other. I'm glad we became friends._

_-Katherine_

* * *

_Dear Katherine,_

_You won't tell anyone, will you?_

_-Mouse_

* * *

_Katherine,_

_Please write me back and promise you won't tell anyone._

* * *

_Katherine, _

_I'm scared now. I'm afraid I told you too much. Please don't get me in trouble._

* * *

The next morning, Jack found an enormous yellow envelope on the ground beside his head when he woke up. He cautiously opened it.

Jack recognized Mouse's spiky handwriting right away. His heart sinking in dismay, he did what he swore to himself he'd never do—invade another's privacy. But he knew where Mouse kept all the letters she received, and she was still asleep. In horror, he laid them all out in order, knowing that there was no way Katherine would take advantage of a little girl like that. No way. Pulitzer had tricked Mouse, encouraging her by pretending to be Katherine, writing as a friend. He had gotten all he'd wanted out of Mouse, so had stopped responding. It made Jack sick to his stomach. He read them all, wondering why he hadn't put an end to this. At the bottom of the pile was a note beginning _Dear Jack_. Jack felt sick. It was the same handwriting as all the other letters from 'Katherine'.

* * *

_Dear Jack,_

_You've been trying to get secrets out of your young friend, Mouse, for ages, and yet I managed it in a few short days. I sent you the letters as proof. Seems quite ironic, doesn't it, Mr. Kelly? There are ways of worming things out of a little girl like that; you've only been too blind to see them. First and foremost, all she wanted was somebody to listen. _

_I thought you'd benefit from my little experiment, so I sent you the letters. I'm sure you can get your hands on the ones I cleverly wrote back as Katherine. Well, I must give Mr. Snyder some of the credit. With a few choice words, we managed to get Mouse to trust us enough to spill her darkest secrets. We will use them to our advantage; you may use them to yours. Was I underhanded? Perhaps, but sometimes you must be so to get the information you need. I hope I've taught you a bit of a lesson. I'm sure young Mouse has learned one as well, regretfully—to never trust anything she reads on paper._

_-Joseph Pulitzer_

* * *

**Seems like most of you probably saw that coming even from the last chapter. Hope it was suspenseful enough anyway!**

**Please review!**

**-Sis21K**


	13. A Few More Discoveries

**Ugh, sorry, sorry! I know I'm taking SO long between chapters, and it'll get better, I promise! It's summer now!**

**Enjoy!**

Jack leapt to his feet. His mind was in a fog. He vaguely noticed the letters slip from his hands and scatter at his feet. He blinked, and he was running down the stairs, with one goal in mind—to make Pulitzer pay for his little game. Tricking people was a game, was it? And Pulitzer thought Jack would let him get away with it?

His mind registered hands, pulling on him, holding him back. He fought them until he realized they were his own newsies. "Jack!"

"Wha…what?"

"Jack, what're you doing?!"

His mind cleared. He was inches away from the front door and straining forward. Crutchie, Race, Mush, Albert, and Davey were holding him back.

"I'm—Pulitzer is—I'm gonna kill him!" Jack roared.

"You musta been dreamin'," Crutchie said uncertainly.

"No, I—those letters—"

"You was dreamin'," Crutchie repeated with more conviction. "You comes down here trippin' over your own feet and not sayin' a word and now you just woke up, see?"

"See for yourself!" Jack said. He turned on Davey. "Them letters? Mouse's been writing? Yeah, she thinks she's been writing them to Katherine, but really it's Pulitzer who's writin' back—and—and I'm gonna kill him!"

"You ain't goin' anywhere," Davey said shakily. "Show us the letters."

"Mouse's gonna be sick when she finds out. You know what she all wrote in them letters?" Jack was pounding up the stairs, slowing only to allow the others to catch up. He didn't wait for an answer. "She was tellin' him—well, she thought it was Katherine—but she told him pretty much everything he wants to know."

"Like what?"

"Like all about the fire, the whole story—and it ain't really her fault—and about what her nightmares is all about and—get this—she told him the reason she can't talk."

"What?!"

"Stuff she's never told you, or me, or anyone."

"That's insane—you're insane—"

"The only insane person here is Pulitzer, usin' her like that," Crutchie said, sounding horrified.

"Jack, you sure you didn't dream it?" They had almost reached the rooftop.

"You'll see, I'll show you the letters, Pulitzer sent them all back, probably typed out his own copies…"

Jack burst onto the rooftop. "See? Just like I said. They're right there, look for yourself." Most of the boys hurried over to the pile of letters. Davey pushed to the front and fell to his knees, frantically scanning each letter, looking for the secrets his sister had never told him.

The other boys gave him space, slowly reading through the other letters. Crutchie stayed beside Jack. It was a few seconds before Jack noticed Crutchie tugging on his sleeve. "Whaddyawant?" he muttered, glancing at him.

"Where's Mouse?"

"She's right—" The cot was empty. "—there." The word died in his throat.

Mouse was gone. Again.

* * *

"Katherine just wanted to come over and apologize for not being able to reply to your letters," Snyder said. He seemed awfully happy about the whole business. "_So_ busy, you know. Oh, and Mr. Pulitzer has a proposition for you."

_If _you're_ happy about it, I don't know if I want to hear about it._

Mouse had been slowly coming out of a light sleep (a nice change from bolting awake), and had registered Jack sprinting past her cot and thundering down the stairs. A moment later, Snyder had crawled onto the rooftop and pulled Mouse to her feet. "Time to go," he'd murmured. Mouse, still half asleep, hadn't even thought to protest. She had seen the scattered pile of letters just as she started crawling down the ladder, and that's when she had really woken up. All she could think was, _Jack knows. Oh, I'm in so much trouble now._

Snyder was half-dragging her down the street. The sun wasn't even up, and New York was still asleep. No one was around to see her predicament. _Am I being kidnapped? _Mouse wondered. _Maybe. Then again, maybe not…ugh, I'm in so much trouble…_

They reached Pulitzer's office in minutes. He was expecting them. Mouse looked around for Katherine, but Hannah was the only other person in the room.

She didn't notice Snyder whispering something in Pulitzer's ear, didn't notice Pulitzer pull back, frown at him, and murmur, "You just had to make it harder, didn't you?"

She didn't notice Snyder's grin, and his low voice, saying, "I couldn't help myself."

Pulitzer sighed. "So now I have to clean up your mess." He looked at the young girl, peering eagerly around the office. "Mouse, I apologize if Mr. Snyder misled you, but Katherine had stopped by earlier, asking me to tell you how sorry she was for breaking off communication for a while. She's not here anymore. She's become incredibly busy with her work, you know."

Mouse was disappointed, but she nodded in comprehension.

"I have a little surprise for you, though."

_Like what?_

"How would you like to stay with me for a while?"

Mouse blinked. _What?_

"I've got a little room upstairs made up for you. And there are books. You like to read?"

_Yes, but—_

"There is also paper and pencils. You won't be able to write to Katherine anymore, but you're—well, she tells me you're a good writer. Write stories, write articles, write whatever your heart desires."

_It's just—_

"We have lovely food here. Breakfast will be served in half an hour. I wonder, have you ever had pancakes with maple syrup?"

_It sounds good, but—_

"I would love for you to stay here for a while. Just take a break from the dirt and grime of New York."

_I can't…_Mouse shook her head. _They'll worry about me._

Pulitzer seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. "Jack and Davey would be pleased to know you've been given such an opportunity."

_No. _She shook her head harder.

There was a pause. Mouse froze.

Then Pulitzer spoke again, his voice low and dangerous. "I insist."

Another pause.

Mouse slowly nodded. Twice, no more.

Pulitzer's voice was pleasant again. "Good. Hannah will show you up to your room."

* * *

Jack fell to his knees beside Mouse's cot. He couldn't even deny that it was his fault this time. Why, _why_ did she have to run off every time he turned his back?

On the other side of the roof, Davey had found the letter he'd been looking for, and the other newsies were backing away slowly as he made revelation after revelation. "She never told us about the…overseer…" A pause. "Blood? What blood?" Another pause, and then he yelled, "Killed _all those people_?"

"There was a reason she never told anyone," Jack said unsteadily, approaching Davey. "It musta been awful."

"So some nasty old overseer told her to turn on some lever, but there were still people working in the machine?"

"She didn't know until she saw the blood," Jack whispered.

"But when she came home that day, she just said she didn't wanna go back there anymore. She was fine until—she didn't stop talking until the next day!"

"It was the nightmares," Jack said, suddenly sure. "She must've had a bad nightmare—I mean a really awful one, one that scared her so bad that she couldn't talk anymore."

"Davey?"

Les had stumbled onto the roof, rubbing his eyes. He slowly took in Jack and Davey, kneeling in the pile of letters; the newsies surrounding them; and finally Mouse's empty cot.

"What's going on? Where's Mouse?"

**I want to say I'll have another chapter ready tomorrow, but I'm not making any promises. Please review!**

**-Sis**


	14. Pulitzer's Guest

**Yay, I got another chapter up!**

The room was like one Mouse had only dreamed of.

It was ten times the size of her bedroom at home. There were two windows on adjacent walls, each so large that the room would be flooded in light once the sun came up. As it was, a light fixture in the center of the ceiling was more than enough to see by. A small desk sat beneath one of the window, and along that wall ran dozens of bookshelves containing more books than Mouse had ever seen. On the desk were a pile of paper and an elegant cup containing sharpened pencils and inky pens. There was a window-seat beneath the other window, filled with pillows. A small, charming nightstand was placed neatly beside the bed—and the bed itself! Wider than three of the bunks from the Lodging House put together, and a dozen times more comfortable-looking, the bed came up to Mouse's elbow; it was adorned with pillows and silky sheets, topped off with a fluffy comforter that looked like it was stuffed with clouds.

For a moment, observing Mouse's awe, Hannah dropped her business-like manner and allowed herself a small smile. "He thought it might please you. I'll leave you be."

After Hannah quietly closed the door, she paused for a moment outside, frowning. There had been a lot happening at Pulitzer's office recently, and she was not sure she liked it. Seeing Mr. Snyder (whom she disliked but hadn't the nerve to say so to Mr. Pulitzer) around again was one thing, but seeing him drag in that poor little mute girl was quite another thing.

She actually had no idea what was going on. Mr. Pulitzer had become much more secretive as of late. Whenever she ventured to ask him what he was up to, he gave her vague, indirect answers or symbolic metaphors that made her more confused than before. And the last time he'd started doing that…well, that was what caused the newsies' strike in the first place.

So Hannah was worried.

But she was hoping it was nothing. After all, Pulitzer was being kind to that little girl now, wasn't he? Maybe she, Hannah, was just paranoid.

She blinked, shook her head, and hurried back to work.

* * *

As soon as Mouse heard Pulitzer's secretary's retreating footsteps, she sprinted to the bed and jumped on it, landing sprawled on top of the soft, airy comforter. Her body sank down nearly a foot into the bed—that's how squishy it was. For a moment, she panicked. Maybe such beds weren't meant to be jumped on. But…

_Eh, what the heck. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts._

She rolled off the bed and ran to the bookshelves. It was stock-full with the classics she'd only heard of. She chose one without looking at the title and opened it. The print was tiny and neat. But Mouse was too excited to read. She replaced the book on the shelf and moved on to the desk. She took a single piece of paper off the top of the stack and tested out each pen and pencil on it, carefully making rows of lines. The ink flowed magically from the pens in such large quantities that it took Mouse a few minutes to make a straight line that didn't start with a large inky splotch. The pencils wrote dark and smooth. Mouse replaced all the utensils but one pen, which she used to write her name with a flourish. She grinned. If she had an official pen like this all the time, she would just go around signing her name on things.

She ran around the room, her bare toes sinking into the lush rugs. Her hair flew out behind her, and finally Mouse collapsed onto the window seat, knocking half the pillows to the ground. She looked out over the city. The sun was just coming up. Something nagged her in the corner of her mind, but she couldn't place a finger on it. Not yet. First she had to sell her papes—

_Oh, no._

The newsies would be at the circulation desk by now. Or would they? Was Davey looking for her? Mouse sort of missed him, even though she knew he'd be mad when he discovered she was gone. _It's not my fault this time, _she wanted to tell him. She wanted to show him the room, especially the bookshelves. He'd take only a moment to stare at them in awe before finding the thickest one he could and sitting down on the floor, lost in the words.

She smiled. Jack would like this room too. He would especially like the pens and pencils, and the endless sheets of paper. He would sit right down at the desk and create some new masterpiece in a matter of minutes. It would be a picture of one of his friends, probably Crutchie, or Romeo, or Les—

Les! He would love the room. Mouse would only give him a moment to look around before pulling him up onto the bed. They would jump on it for hours, not having to worry about any boards breaking loose or springs popping out.

Mouse imagined bringing all the newsies into the room. She would open her arms wide, as if to say _Welcome! _They would pour in, mouths gaping, being careful not to touch the wallpaper for fear of getting it dirty. Mouse would sit on the bed and watch them explore, a smile stretching across her face.

Eventually they'd all get tired. Under the bed were extra blankets. They would each take a pillow and a fluffy blanket and stretch out on the floor. They would insist Mouse got the bed, and she would only lay there for a few minutes, too happy to sleep, before joining Jack on the window-seat, where he inevitably would be, drawing by the light of the moon. He would wrap his strong arms around her, putting aside his drawing, just to hug her and whisper stories of a far-off place called Santa Fe.

For a moment, Mouse thought her daydream had become reality; she was convinced she was dozing in Jack's arms. She blinked and sat up; the room was empty. She was alone. Two trays sat on the desk. Breakfast and lunch? How much time had passed? Had she actually fallen asleep? Had she slept—really slept, with no nightmares? Mouse nibbled at the toast on one of the trays. She thoughtfully took another piece of paper and an inky pen. Without thinking, she wrote a message.

I WOULD LIKE TO SEE MY BROTHERS AGAIN PLEASE

Mouse went to the door, thinking to show the message to whomever she came across first.

But the door was locked.

This was unexpected. Mouse examined the doorknob. There was no lock from what she could see…

…unless the door was locked from the outside.

She slid the paper under the door and returned to the desk. There was a note for her on one of the trays that she hadn't noticed before.

"Dear Mouse,

I hope you enjoy your time here as my special guest! Enjoy your meals, and read and write to your heart's content.

-Joseph Pulitzer"

Mouse frowned. His handwriting was almost identical to Katherine's. She examined the note further. They made their g's the same. She shook her head. It was probably just a family trait.

Mouse went to the door and knelt. She looked for the paper she'd slipped underneath the door, but it seemed to be gone.

And then it hit her. They weren't going to let her see her brothers. They weren't going to let her see anyone. Something was wrong. Katherine's handwriting was too much like her father's. Those letters were too prying, too personal. From what Jack had said about her, she wouldn't just cut off communication after learning such an enormous secret—no matter how much work she had to do. Had Jack been exaggerating? Or was the person Mouse had been corresponding with not who they said they were?

Did Pulitzer have all her secrets now?

Had she confessed directly to _Pulitzer_?

Mouse took the small note to the window-seat and sat staring at it.

The more she stared at that tiny _g _of 'guest', the more she began to feel as if she wasn't a guest. If Pulitzer knew the reason behind her muteness, she most certainly _wasn't_ a guest.

She was a prisoner.

**So, as this story is nearing the climax, that means it's going to be finished pretty soon. So I have to start thinking about what I'm going to do next. **

**And here's what I was thinking. **

**Remember Question Time? That seemed to be one of my more popular stories. How would you guys like me to do another one? I think it would be fun to do, I really enjoyed writing it and getting your questions. Let me know if you want me to bring Question Time back!**

**For now, stay tuned, more chapters are on the way as soon as possible!**

**-Sis**


	15. Missing

**Okay, so a new Question Time is looking good! Did you guys like the way it was set up last time or should I do fewer characters?**

**Anyway, standard disclaimers apply and I hope this chapter isn't too angsty. Oh, who am I kidding? It's really angsty. Enjoy nonetheless. It will get better soon.**

The boys were quiet that morning. Absent from the streets were their happy shouts to each other; the only shouts were the hawking of reluctant headlines.

Jack didn't try to lift their spirits. He knew they were all worried for the young girl missing from their numbers. He himself noticed that he was selling less papes than usual, but his mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Mouse.

Les stayed near Jack that day. Jack kept trying to think of something to say to him, but there wasn't much to say. Les knew as well as Jack did that there was a very good chance Mouse was in danger. Nothing Jack could say would change that.

Davey had insisted he be the only one to take the day off to look for Mouse. "She's my sister. She's my responsibility."

"She's everyone's sister!" Albert had yelled at him.

"You know exactly what I mean!" Davey yelled back. "Having all of you looking isn't gonna help anybody! It's better to have you sell today! You need the money! You wanna starve?"

"You know it's not that simple!" Specs shouted.

"Let's pretend it is," said Davey, looking exhausted. "I'll go today to look. If I haven't found her by…by this evening, then you can all come and help. Make your money, get some food—you gotta survive, all right?"

"We'll find her faster if we all look now!" Race shouted, turning to Jack, who was sitting with his head in his hands. "Tell him, Jack! Tell him we care about Mouse as much as he does!"

There was a ringing silence. Jack slowly raised his head. It seemed as if they were all holding their breath, waiting for their leader to take their side. "Guys," he said in a faltering voice. He shook his head in sad defeat. "Just…just knock it off, okay? Davey's right. It won't help anyone by having us all lose our day's pay."

"Whaddya mean, Davey's right?!" Race screamed into Jack's face.

Suddenly Jack was on his feet. "Now you listen here! I say Davey's right, then he's right! You got that? We gotta eat, don't we? Ain't gonna help if we find Mouse and then got nothing to eat til tomorrow? So listen! We go sell our papes, Davey can search for Mouse! And then like he said, he don't find her, we all go out tonight, after we got enough food to keep us alive!"

"Do you even care about her?" Race yelled.

This was the last straw for Jack. "OF COURSE I CARE ABOUT HER!" he roared. "But I also care about you guys! And so that's why I'm tellin' you, we'se sellin' papes first! You got it?"

There was a pause. Then Crutchie spoke up.

"Got it, Jack. Come on, guys, let's go." He adjusted his crutch under his arm and headed out. The newsies glanced around at each other, but reluctantly followed him after confirming it silently with each other. They trusted Crutchie probably as much as they trusted Jack. If something Jack said wasn't right, Crutchie would have spoken up. If he agreed with Jack, then it was a sure bet that's what was going to happen.

Only one boy stayed back.

"Davey? What...what about me?"Les slowly approached his brother, his wide eyes glistening.

Davey couldn't seem to find the strength to form words. He sighed, squeezed his eyes shut, and turned away.

Jack paused in the doorway, hardly daring to breathe. Davey pushed past him forcefully. Jack thought he heard a choked sob.

Les stood in the middle of the room, looking lost.

Then all of a sudden, the little boy stormed right out the door, the tears streaming down his cheeks as he screamed after his brother. "YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HER LIKE I DO! YOU NEVER UNDERSTAND HER!" Davey didn't turn back, just hunched his shoulders and kept walking. Les's breathing was ragged through his tears. "She's my sister too, you know! You _never_ care about her! You never even _try_, Davey! Maybe she would talk if you would just take the time to listen! She always makes _me _help her run away from you and it's ALL—YOUR—FAULT!" Les screamed.

Davey made himself keep walking, despite the tears that had begun to flow down his cheeks.

Les stumbled backwards and fell, sobbing, into Jack's arms.

* * *

Mouse spent the entire day by the window, but she couldn't see any newsies.

Once, she saw Davey approach the building. Mouse sprinted to the door—she heard the downstairs door open and close, but couldn't hear any voices—and then a few minutes later, it opened and closed again. Mouse rushed back to the window just in time to see Davey leave, looking dejected. Mouse slammed her head against the wall in frustration. If she had her voice, she would open the window and shout to Davey. But she was afraid to make any other noise to get his attention—he was too far away now, anyway.

Meals were delivered to her regularly by Hannah, but Mouse couldn't each much. A few bites of bread, a few spoonfuls of soup. Hannah clucked her tongue when she came back and saw the food barely picked at.

Hannah was keeping her ears open for anything suspicious-sounding, and later that afternoon her attentiveness was rewarded. She only caught a few words—"Katherine's letters"—but it was enough. Something in her mind immediately connected, and she set aside what she was working on and put a new sheet in her typewriter.

"Dear Miss Katherine…I have an inquiry to make of you concerning a little girl…"

Meanwhile, not knowing of this new development, Mouse sat by the window, miserably watching as the shadows grew longer and longer. She watched various newsboys run by, their duties finished for the day. They looked in every nook and cranny, but no one came to Pulitzer's office again. Mouse wondered what he had said to convince them she wasn't there. If only one of them would look up, they would see her face in the window…

* * *

"Time to come home, Les," Davey called wearily.

Les completely and utterly ignored him.

"Les. It's too late to be out anymore. We'll keep looking tomorrow."

Les couldn't stop himself from turning around. "Tomorrow, huh? Tomorrow after another day of selling papers while Haddie's out there, somewhere, lost?" He resisted the urge to scream more awful things at Davey.

Davey watched his little brother grimace and turn away.

"Les. You gotta come home now."

Les kept walking.

"Les, I'm serious. It's dangerous out here at night."

Les slowed. Davey just didn't get it, did he? He didn't understand why Les had to keep looking—because Mouse had come to depend more on her younger brother than her older brother. And Les had to keep Mouse safe because Mouse just couldn't do it on her own, could she? She tried, that's for sure, but however unwilling she was to accept help, she still needed some. Especially now. Mouse had been missing for an entire day, and Davey was just ready to call it quits?

Les hadn't realized he had stopped walking until he felt Davey's arms wrapped around him. "We gotta go," Davey choked out, and Les allowed himself to be led back to the Lodging House.

He refused to go to sleep, though. Not when his sister was out there. Jack tried to make him, but he was so vehement and tearful that Jack allowed him to come up to the rooftop. Les busied himself reading through all the letters Mouse had sent and received. When he was finished, he had come to a simple conclusion. He knew exactly where Mouse had to be, and as soon as Jack fell asleep he was off like a shot. Down the ladder, across the street, and towards Pulitzer's office. Davey hadn't told them what Pulitzer had said, only that checking his office again was pointless; Mouse wasn't there. After reading those horrible letters, Les knew better. As he rounded the corner and saw the flickering of candlelight in one of the upstairs windows, Les had his answer.

Mouse had given up on the window and had settled herself in the giant fluffy bed, trying to get some sleep. She was slowly starting to panic, though; it was a cold, stiff feeling that only increased when she heard footsteps in the hallway.

Time seemed to freeze. The footsteps stopped right outside her door, and she heard a jingle, as if someone was fumbling for a key. Mouse sat up in bed—and nearly fell back again in fright. Someone was outside the window; on the fire escape—it was Les! Mouse smiled at him; it was a relief to see a friendly face, but as she heard a key click into the lock her smile fell away and a look of horror replaced it. She frantically motioned towards the door and waved Les down. Somehow he understood.

The relief Mouse had felt as he'd gotten out of sight melted into cold fear as the door open and a leering figure made his way to her bed.

Snyder.

**I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't hate me, please! Another chapter will be up _really_ soon, I promise! Like, it's already mostly finished!**

**Thanks for all the wonderful reviews I've been getting and please keep giving me feedback!**

**-Sis21K**


	16. The First Sound in Six Years

**Here it is! Don't be mad, please!**

Les snuck a peek through the window and jumped back so fast he almost toppled off the fire escape. What was Snyder doing in there?

The cruel man began to speak, and though his voice was low Les could hear every word.

"They say you can't speak, eh, little girl? Just won't utter a sound. Hmm. Seems a pity, when you think about it. But I suppose guilt can do that to you…" Mouse inched away from him, but Snyder grabbed the front of her shirt. Mouse froze, feeling his cold fingers against her chest. "Ah, yes, the guilt. Don't be ashamed, it's nothing to be ashamed of…though I suppose shame goes hand in hand with guilt, doesn't it? When you've killed that many people…" Mouse tried to work up the courage to hit him, but she couldn't move.

_What are you going to do to me?_

"But that's all over now, in the past. We must move on. Isn't it hard to be ridiculed by your friends, by your family? Isn't it tiring, going day after day, having to take everything on the chin? Wouldn't you like some more freedom? They've tried, I know, but I know the surest way to get you to speak again."

"I hope she's not buying this," Les muttered under his breath.

_I hope Les doesn't think I'm buying this. If he's still there, that is._

"They say you can't speak!" Snyder chuckled. "No. Anyone can speak…if given the right reason. Or, if speech is _forced_ out of them." Mouse was suddenly tugged to her feet. He was gripping her arm so tightly Mouse could practically feel it bruising. "Pulitzer wanted to wait to use force. He only wants to help, the poor man. But I can't wait any longer." Snyder dragged her out of the room. "It's time to get that little mouth working again. I won't just make you talk—I'll make you scream!" And then— "Wouldn't want to get blood on these nice rugs, now would we?"

_He's going to beat me._

Les had come to the same horrible conclusion when someone grabbed his shoulder.

But it was just Katherine. "Les! What are you doing up here? What's going on?"

Les choked out everything that had happened as fast as he could. "—and Snyder said he can make her scream and he's gonna beat her, Katherine! He's gonna beat my sister!"

Katherine was already halfway down the fire escape. "Les, go back and get Jack. Run as fast as you can. I hope my father has nothing to do with this, because I don't think I could possibly be more angry with him than I am already…but go!"

Les was off. The night air was cold and the run was short. He burst through the Lodging House's front door, making the majority of the sleeping newsies groan. He sprinted upstairs to Jack, who was already awake, probably by the noise Les had made downstairs.

"Les? Les, where were you?"

"I found Mouse and Snyder's got her and Katherine's there now but she can't hold him off and we gotta go 'cause Snyder's gonna beat Mouse real bad and we gotta go!"

Jack froze. Les could practically see the wheels turning, taking in the new information. Then he was up and running past Les, thundering down the stairs, shouting as loud as he could, "Get up! Get up! Snyder's got Mouse! You wanna help? This is your chance to save her! So let's go, boys!"

In a somewhat panicked daze the newsies threw on pants (most didn't bother with shirts; Jack's anxious shouts were enough to give them better priorities at the moment) and followed him in a wild pack down the street. Les was caught up in this and decided to lose his own shirt. He ripped it off, threw it down, and glanced back to see it get trampled by newsies. He grinned, then turned his thoughts back to the present.

Jack had suddenly jerked to a stop. He threw out his arms and they all pressed themselves against a building. On the next block was Pulitzer's office. They would have to proceed with caution.

* * *

Mouse struggled, but Snyder's grip was too tight. She looked frantically around the street for someone, anyone. To her utter amazement, she saw something Snyder hadn't noticed.

The newsies. She could see the whole group of them, crouching in the shadows. Did they see her? She couldn't be sure. They weren't moving. She turned away to make sure Snyder didn't follow her gaze, but as he dragged her into an alley she couldn't help risking another glance. _I don't think they see me…and…none of them have shirts on._

She could only hope her shirtless band of heroes could save her in time.

* * *

"Where is she?" Davey whispered. Les elbowed his way to the front of the group but didn't have an answer. He thought he saw a movement in the shadows by an alley, but he couldn't be sure.

Katherine came running to them. "I don't know where he took her! I waited at the back door but they didn't come out!"

"Musta used the front door," Jack said dumbly.

"Obviously, dumbo. Hey, I missed you while I was in Brooklyn," Katherine added softly, planting a kiss on Jack's cheek.

Jack threw an arm over her shoulders and turned to Davey. "Now what?"

Davey seemed reluctant. "Well…now we wait. We'll creep forward a little bit and see if we can hear anything."

This wasn't what the newsies wanted to do at all—they would have preferred to charge the scene with Indian battle cries—but they did as Davey told them.

A few minutes passed in silence. Wispy clouds passed by the moon. A few newsies yawned. Everyone was stiff, waiting for a sound they hoped they wouldn't hear.

"Let's go forward a little more," Jack said after a while, and they did.

They were almost to Pulitzer's darkened office now. The boys shivered in the brisk air. Katherine raised an eyebrow as she glanced back at the shirtless group, then rolled her eyes and concentrated again. Jack watched this, wondering what she all knew about the situation. Did she know that her father had been using her name to get Mouse's secrets? Did she even know who Mouse was? Katherine noticed his gaze and gave a tiny but firm nod, her jaw set. She knew everything, and she was pretty mad about it. Jack pulled her close and kissed her hair. Soon they'd be out of this. Jack closed his eyes and inhaled the lovely scent of Katherine's hair.

It was in this silent moment that they heard a terrible, hoarse, frightened scream. It came from the alley. Les stiffened.

Jack's eyes swiveled to look at Davey, who had gone white as a sheet.

"That's Haddie," Davey whispered.

The scream came again, fainter this time. It had the hint of a sob behind it.

"That's Haddie," Les repeated, speaking in a low voice. Then louder. "That's Haddie. That's Haddie! That's my sister!" He took off at a run toward the sound, and the rest of the newsies followed suit. Les was still screaming. "Haddie! HADDIE! We're coming! We're coming, Haddie!" The others were silent but for the sound of their breath, quick with adrenaline. "HADDIE! JUST HOLD ON, HADDIE!"

**I hate this, I hate doing this, but somewhere in my author mind a voice is whispering that everything will be okay. It just makes me so sad, because I didn't plan for the first sound Mouse makes in 6 years to be a scream of pain. Argh...**

**Well, go review! I know nobody wanted that to happen but it did and I'm sorry.**

**-Sis**


	17. Shirtless Heroes

**Well, this is coming to an end! I'm only planning on one more chapter after this, probably. So enjoy it while it lasts! And thank you for all your reviews and support!**

**Also just a note that this chapter isn't a direct continuation of the last, I had to backtrack a little in Mouse's POV.**

**Standard disclaimers apply.**

Snyder didn't appear to have a particular destination in mind. He stopped where the shadows were darkest in the alley. Mouse stumbled over trash, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.

When Snyder stopped, she decided on a whim to fight, to fight as hard as she could until the newsies could get her away.

She twisted her arm out of his grasp and in the same motion struck his jaw. He reached for her wrist with a frown but Mouse's other fist came up and collided with his ear. _I'm on a roll! _She brought her heel down hard on his foot while punching his gut, then kicked his knee as hard as she could.

All at once Snyder had both Mouse's arms twisted behind her back painfully, and though she struggled she couldn't free herself. Snyder smirked. "Nice try. But it's _you _who needs help speaking."

With that Mouse felt a blow to the side of her head that nearly knocked her to the ground—it would have if her arms weren't being held behind her back with Snyder's other hand—and things started to look dismal.

A few more blows and Mouse was on the ground. She tried to take advantage of this by starting to crawl away, but a heavy foot brought down on her hand made her stop. She'd thought the burns on her hands had healed, but the skin was still raw, it seemed. The delicate skin was already ripped open from punching Snyder, not to mention the still-healing burns that had turned bright red from being irritated. All in all, Mouse's hands were in so much pain she could barely feel anything else…

…until Snyder really got down to business.

Mouse clenched her teeth as Snyder hit her in the side, pounded her ears, kicked her stomach. Tears leaked from her eyes—why did he think this would help? _He doesn't, _she realized when Snyder paused to pick up a discarded piece of wood laying in the alley, _it's his lame excuse._ _H__e just thinks this it's fun._ How long had it been? Five minutes? Ten minutes? How long before Snyder stopped?

The wood brought a whole new level of pain to the beating. Snyder brought it down on Mouse's back while she was curled in a ball after being kicked in the stomach. The jagged wood of the broken end ripped through her shirt and cut into her back. Snyder knocked her about the head with it. _Where's Jack? _He brought it down on her back again. _Where's Davey? _He slammed it into her side. _Where's Les? Where are they?_

Snyder stepped back for a moment, panting but smirking when she didn't try to get away. He cast the piece of wood aside and Mouse breathed a sigh of relief. _You're trying to make me talk? I haven't made a sound in six years. My first sound will not be because of you, you monster! _This thought gave her the strength she needed to face him. Her entire body pulsed in pain. She struggled to her feet but collapsed immediately. Snyder chuckled. "Let's try again." With one quick motion he pulled something long and thin out. A whip.

He advanced toward her, raising it.

And that was when Mouse screamed.

She didn't mean to. She was so scared at that moment that the sound came out of her mouth of its own accord. When Mouse realized that it was _her_ that had made that sound, she was incredulous. _I made a sound! I did it! _Then in the same moment, her thoughts turned angry. _And it was because of him! This—this monster had the final victory of making me speak! _And just as sudden, she was stubborn. _No…no, that wasn't a word. That wasn't speaking. That was just a noise. I won't say a word for him. I won't. I won't!_

Snyder chuckled. "Finally, some progress! But that's not quite all we need." And he brought the whip down on her back. And again. And again.

Mouse screamed once more.

The pain rivaled even that of her burns after the fire. She could feel the blood spilling out from wounds on her back, trickling into other wounds, forming small red rivers that rushed down her side and dripped to the ground. Each new blow with the whip was like knives being driven into her. The muscles in her back tightened and writhed uncontrollably. He didn't seem to care where he was swinging the whip—he struck her foot, a hand, the back of her legs—eventually Mouse just cowered on the ground, protecting her face with her arms, and waited for it to be over while her tears dripped onto the ground and mixed with the blood.

"Just say the word," Snyder said, seeming to be getting tired. The blows were slower and fewer, but no less painful; he made sure of that. "Say 'Stop' and I will do so. I want to hear it. Loud and clear. 'Stop'. That's all I need to—"

"STOP!"

But Mouse hadn't said it. It came from the end of the alley, where a gang of shirtless newsies came running as fast as they could. Les was in front, screaming his head off. Mouse couldn't understand what he was saying. Snyder kicked Mouse so she was laying on her back, on the bloody wounds, and she didn't have the strength to do anything but lay there and give in to the overwhelming feeling of relief that she was saved, she was saved!

A shirtless Davey knelt beside her and frantically helped her into a sitting position. "Was…was that you who screamed?" Mouse nodded, and Davey swallowed loudly. He handed her his shirt that he'd evidently been carrying and Mouse slowly put it on, knowing Davey would probably regret giving it to her once he saw the bloody mess her back was. The cool cloth pressed into her wounds, giving her momentary relief. She was glad no one could see the blood on the ground, Davey was fussing enough over a bruise forming on her jaw. They had more important things to deal with—namely, Snyder.

Jack was making sure he was dealt with. Les was no longer at the front of the group; Jack had pushed him back so he wouldn't get hurt. Jack was screaming in Snyder's face, and the rest of the newsies started to join in once Snyder dropped his whip. They backed him step by step down the alley. Mouse couldn't understand half of what Jack was saying. "DIRTY ROTTEN…" (the other newsies's voices drowned him out for a moment) "…WHIPPING…" (a few more words she couldn't hear "…SHE SCREAMED…" (more garbled words) "…WILL…KILL…YOU…"

Suddenly the shouting stopped, and an all-too familiar voice penetrated the silence.

"What is going on here?"

Pulitzer strode down the alley and stepped between Jack and Snyder.

"AND YOU!" Jack bellowed. "YOU'RE THE REASON FOR THIS WHOLE MESS!"

"What's going on, Mr. Snyder?" Pulitzer asked pleasantly, ignoring Jack.

"I'll tell you what's going on." A female voice rang out angrily. Mouse started. It was Katherine! It had to be! Who else would be standing so close to Jack? Who else would speak to Pulitzer in such a way?

"My dear, my dear…"

"Don't 'my dear' me!" Katherine snarled. "You used my name! You wrote to that poor little girl, made give you all her secrets, all with my name!"

"Now—"

"And as if that wasn't bad enough, you had this—this horrible man—you had him take her to an alley in the middle of the night and beat the little girl senseless!"

"I did not order that," Pulitzer said, his voice suddenly low. He turned on Snyder. "You brought her here to beat her? _What were you thinking?_"

"Don't tell me you had nothing to do with it!" Katherine shouted. "You are a lying, sneaking, selfish fool and I'm ashamed to be your daughter!"

The silence that followed this was absolute. Katherine stood her ground. Pulitzer slowly turned to gaze at her. He said nothing. Mouse thought that maybe, just maybe, he felt a little guilt, a little remorse, enough that he didn't defend himself. He only said, "Come with me, Mr. Snyder," and walked away. Snyder blinked and followed him.

After a moment, Jack yelled after Pulitzer. "You better take him to _prison!_"

Pulitzer's voice sounded exhausted from a distance. "Don't worry, Mr. Kelly, that's exactly where we're going."

Mouse watched Snyder stop in his tracks at this, but Pulitzer said "And I suggest you hurry, Mr. Snyder," and he continued slinking along.

The two disappeared behind a corner and Jack turned to Mouse. "Come on, kid, let's get you back home."

Mouse felt all eyes on her. She knew they were waiting for her to say something. They had all heard her scream, after all. But it was all happening too fast. She closed her eyes and simply nodded. She wasn't ready to speak quite yet. The boys, knowing it was unwise to push the matter, grouped around Mouse and they started back home. Les walked directly behind her, and before they exited the dark alley, Mouse stopped, turned around and gave him a hug. He had saved her. Her little brother was the reason she was still alive. The newsies, feeling it their duty to keep Mouse in the middle of the pack for safety, stopped and were silent as she wrapped her arms around Les's bare torso. He returned it after a moment, his hands rubbing against the wounds on her back. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall. They would discover the wounds soon enough and get all worked up again. Mouse wanted to put that moment off as long as possible; she hated being the center of everyone's gaze, especially when she was in so much pain. When she turned back and forced herself to continue walking, a hand found its way into hers. She looked up to see Katherine, who smiled apologetically. "I'm so sorry for what you had to go through. I'm more angry at my father about this than you will ever know." Mouse gave her a small smile back. Of course she couldn't blame Katherine for her father's actions. "I haven't read the letters yet, but I'm sure they weren't very nice at all. So, let's start over. I want you to be friends with the real Katherine. Okay?"

Mouse nodded. _Okay_.

The rest of the walk back to the Lodging House was quiet. The newsies talked in low voices amongst themselves. Les came to walk beside her and took her other hand. "We heard you scream." His voice was imploring. "Mouse, are you ready to talk yet?"

Mouse hesitated, then shook her head. Les looked a little disappointed, but he nodded understandingly. _If only you knew how close the words are, though_. Mouse, surrounded by her band of bare chested heroes, was _almost_ ready to speak. Almost, but not quite.

**Please review! All will be resolved in good time!**

**-Sis**


	18. Silence Speaks

**Before I begin the final chapter, I would like to say a huge thank you to everyone who has been supporting my writing. This story has gotten more reviews (and follows and favorites) than any of my other stories, and I'm extremely touched that so many of you are reading my work. You guys have no idea. So thank you, thank you, thank you, and I hope you enjoy this last installment.**

The silence that the newsies had held painstakingly the entire walk back evaporated the moment they stepped into the Lodging House. Suddenly it was an eruption of cheers and whoops—a celebration. They had defeated Snyder once again. Jack halfheartedly told them to go to bed a few times, but even though he looked shaken and exhausted, he didn't seem quite ready to sleep yet either after the nights events. He let it go.

Mouse stood stiffly against a wall, wondering if the blood was soaking through the back of Davey's shirt. How was she going to get across the room and upstairs—she needed water or something to wash her bloody back, not to mention the shirt—without drawing attention? No one knew the extent of her wounds yet. The newsies crowded around Mouse and thumped her on the shoulder, congratulating her for holding Snyder off until they got there.

"He must not have hurt you too bad, huh?" Race said.

"Yeah, he couldn't have gotten too far in," Specs said knowingly. "We only heard you scream twice."

"So he was just getting started when we came?" Albert asked.

Mouse shrugged noncommittally.

"You…you ain't ready to talk yet though?" Romeo asked.

Mouse shook her head, trying to convey an apology through her eyes. She knew the newsies were more eager for her to start speaking than Mouse herself was, now. _It's so close…but I'm nervous, which is stupid…maybe I'll talk once I've ripped this stupid shirt off my back. _Mouse cringed at the thought; as she stood against the wall, she could feel the blood slowly drying, pasting the shirt to her back.

She glanced over at Katherine, who was quickly being surrounded as the unofficial second hero of the night.

"Did you hear what she said to Pulitzer?"

"I can't believe you said that!"

"What exactly was it again?"

"Called him a lyin', sneakin'…"

" '…selfish fool'!" There were appreciative laughs.

"Yeah, that's it!"

"Jack, did you hear what Katherine said?"

Jack glanced mischievously at Katherine. "Hmm...remind me."

"Hah! Let's see!" Race jumped up on a chair and imitated Katherine in a heroic stance. "She says to him, she says, 'You'se a lyin', sneakin', selfish fool and I'se ashamed to be you'se daughter!' "

The newsies roared with laughter. Katherine shrugged, blushing a little. "I meant it, too," she said firmly.

"You hear what he said to Snyder? Right before that?"

Race jumped down. "Sure we did! He goes, 'What were you thinking?' "

"Yeah, I'd like to ask Snyder's parents the same thing!"

While the newsies were caught up in recounting the night's events blow by blow, Davey approached Mouse, who hadn't moved from her spot on the wall. "You sure you're okay? That bruise is darkening pretty fast." He touched the bruise on her chin while Mouse nodded. "You sure? What about the rest of you? What about your hands? They were still red from—_Mouse_." He had reached for one of her hands to examine it, but she had tucked them slyly between her back and the wall. When Davey tried to pull her hand into view, Mouse didn't let him, something she regretted almost immediately as he frowned. He was now aware that she was hiding other injuries, and Mouse wouldn't be able to conceal her wounds for much longer. Davey narrowed his eyes as he grasped Mouse's stiff, unyielding arm, and Mouse looked at him guiltily.

"Go upstairs, Mouse" he said in a low voice. Mouse started to shake her head, but he was serious. "Upstairs. Now." He spun on his heel and started towards Jack, muttering something about burn ointment.

Mouse obeyed while the newsies were still crowded around Katherine and while Davey was looking the other way. If anybody got a glimpse of the bloody shirt stuck to her back, it was all over. They would all pounce. This way was better, she told herself. It would just be Davey and Jack freaking out, instead of the entirety of the Lower Manhattan Newsies Lodging House.

However, when she reached the second floor, Mouse discovered she was a little angry at herself for allowing Davey to find her out. _I could have snuck up here and taken care of it myself. _She took a discarded pillow from the floor and threw it aggressively on a nearby bed, then sank down. Her injuries—her torn-up back, especially—were throbbing. The wounds on her back seemed to have all but ripped open again from her short sprint up the stairs, and the pain blinded her from anything else. Again, her eyes welled up with tears, but she shook her head fiercly, clenching her teeth. _Don't cry. Don't._

A minute later she heard thundering footsteps on the stairs. From the racket they were making, Mouse feared it would be more than just Davey and Jack, but they'd apparently managed to slip away unnoticed, or else had come up with a quick excuse to keep the others downstairs.

"Okay Mouse," Davey said sternly, striding over, "What's going on? You're gonna show us everything Snyder did to you right now, got it?"

Mouse swallowed. Easiest to start with the hands. Yeah. She held out her hands. Jack immediately took them in his and peered at them. "They'se all red and kinda…cut up." He touched her skin and examined his finger. "Blood? Jeez, Mouse, what'd he do to you?"

"Come over to the window, there's more light," Davey said.

Mouse stood up, heart pounding. Jack would notice. Sure as heck he was gonna notice. She walked over to Davey. Jack was right behind her. As the light from the window fell on her, in the quiet, she tensed for the shout, and then—

"WHY IS THERE BLOOD ALL OVER YOUR BACK?"

Mouse ran the last few feet to the bed and jumped onto it, landing on her stomach but not moving, not caring anymore.

"OH MY—"

Davey cut himself off. Mouse felt a hand on her back and shuddered involuntarily. There was a pause. Then Jack spoke again, with forced calm.

"Mouse. Sit up. Now." His voice cracked. "We gotta take the shirt off."

Mouse had sat up before she heard the second part. She froze and started to shake her head.

"Mouse, we have to," Davey said, sounding strained. "Before it dries more."

They helped her ease her arms out of her sleeves, which wasn't too painful since any wounds there from Snyder's whip weren't bloody enough to stick. Then they started to peel it off her back, but the second they started Mouse shook her head hard and rolled away.

Davey looked desperate. "We have to, Mouse."

Mouse crossed her arms, a tear dripping off her cheek.

There was a pause, as the older boys exchanged glances, trying to figure out what to do.

Then a creaking on the stairs announced the presence of two others. Crutchie limped over, led by Les.

"What's going on?" Crutchie asked gently, taking in Mouse's obvious pain, her outer shirt that was halfway off, and her tattered button-up beneath. No one answered. Les looked at Mouse nervously as Crutchie came closer. To break eye contact with Les more than anything, she turned over onto her stomach and buried her face in the bed, revealing her back. _This cannot be happening._

There were gasps from the newcomers. Les rushed over, whispering, "What did he do to you? Why didn't you yell for us earlier, Mouse?"

_I couldn't. Or at least, I didn't think I could._

"He took out his whip, didn't he?" Crutchie said softly.

_Among other things._

"The blood is drying the shirt to her back," Jack said in a voice that was notably higher than his regular one. "We need to pull it off…but…" He looked at Crutchie, almost pleading with him. "It's hurting her."

There was quiet in the room as Crutchie stared at Mouse's back, gritting his teeth. He sighed. Mouse knew that the situation was suddenly in his hands.

"Well, we gotta do it still, don't we?" he finally decided, looking grim.

"But it's gonna hurt her!" Les cried.

"Les, it'll hurt her more if we wait for it to dry completely." Jack had his emotions under control now. He steeled himself and spoke in a stiff voice. "Mouse. Sit up. We're gonna take it off and get it over with. Come on. Now."

Mouse sat up, staring at this new cold Jack. The impassive look in his eyes softened for a moment.

"I'm sorry. Listen, me and Davey are sorry about everything. That fire wasn't your fault at all, even though we made your life miserable about it. And this ain't your fault either. Far from it."

He looked away. "But we still gotta do this." Jack and Crutchie switched places. Jack knelt in front of Mouse and took her hands. Les was by her side.

As Davey and Crutchie slowly peeled the shirt off, the wounds were reopened; bloody scabs and sometimes skin were pulled away from her back. Mouse squeezed Jack's hands as hard as she could and let the tears fall into her lap. Just when she thought it was over, Davey and Crutchie set about taking off the other shirt, the one she had been wearing during the beating. It was torn to shreds, and somehow hurt more coming off, as the fabric was pressed hard into her wounds. Luckily not much of it was left on her back; Snyder's whip had torn most of it away. Mouse didn't even care that her front was bare, the pain overpowered all.

Then it really was over, and Mouse collapsed on the bed.

"We gotta wash all the blood off," Jack said quietly.

* * *

Davey left then. He couldn't take seeing his sister in any more pain. He saw the pleading look on Mouse's face but forced himself to turn away.

"Why do all these awful things happen to my sister?" he muttered angrily, making his way up to the roof.

Sometimes he understood why Jack felt the need to go up on the roof when he felt stressed; now was one of those times. The cold air on his face cleared his mind, and he paced for probably five minutes before he spoke aloud.

"I try to be a good brother, I really do, but then stuff like this happens and I think I've got it all wrong. Where did I go wrong? What did Mouse ever do to deserve this?"

A small voice interrupted him. "Nothing."

Davey whirled around. Les had just come up. "What?"

"She did nothing. All those things you think she did, weren't her fault, not really. Stuff just always happens to her, and it's not ever fair. Nothing's ever fair, though. Her not talking wasn't her fault. We just didn't know." Les squinted. "That doesn't make you a bad brother, though, Davey. It just makes you a brother with a lotta responsibility."

Davey stared at him. Possibly without realizing it, Les had just said the most philosophical thing Davey had heard all day.

However much he blamed himself for what had happened to Mouse, the fact remained that she was his sister and she needed him. That prompted him forward.

"Yeah," he said, still gaping at Les. "Yeah." He ran a hand through his hair and went back down into the Lodging House with Les on his heels. "I gotta take care of her now more than ever," he murmured.

Jack and Crutchie had finished cleaning Mouse's wounds, and in the fading light, Davey could see the individual marks of Snyder's whip across her back. He cringed and went to her, kneeling down beside her still and silent form sprawled on the bed.

"She's asleep," Jack said quietly. "Passed out the second I said we was done. From relief, probably." Hands on his hips, he shook his head. "That girl is the strongest kid I've _ever_ seen. Snyder had to have been beating her for, what, ten or fifteen minutes? Maybe even twenty? Not just the whip, either, which woulda been bad enough." He pointed at a series of jagged, deeper gashes that were still oozing blood. "Had to pull splinters outta there."

"That's when I came up," Les whispered to Davey. "I couldn't watch, she was…writhing…"

"He musta hit her with some broken piece of wood for a while. You know, using the resources around him," Jack added with disgust. "I dunno how she managed to only scream twice through a beating like that. At the—at the Refuge," he said carefully, glancing at Crutchie then staring resolutely at the floor, "any kid would yell each time the whip hit him if Snyder had it in his mind to beat him. I…I did too."

"We all did," Crutchie whispered.

"I just don't know how she did it," Jack said, gazing once again at Mouse's sleeping form. They all followed his gaze, quiet for a moment, so they could hear the muffled conversations of the newsies and Katherine below. "Well, anyway, I'm gonna take her up to the roof tonight. Fresh air will be good for her. And I don't want the others getting too close. She's got enough to think about without them asking her questions."

They all accompanied Jack and Mouse up to the rooftop—Mouse woke up in the process and _groaned_. No one else said anything about it, but they exchanged excited glances. When Mouse was settled onto the extra cot, Jack went down to actually make the newsies go to bed and to accompany Katherine to her apartment, and Davey went to bed himself, knowing Mouse was in good hands and too exhausted to sit with her.

Crutchie sat beside her, dabbing at her still-oozing back occasionally with a wet cloth. Les stayed right by his sister's side, whispering softly every time Crutchie wiped her back. "It's okay. Don't worry. It'll get better. You'll be fine."

* * *

_Mother and Dad are coming back in a few days and this is how they're gonna find me…well, I better be talking by then…what're they gonna say?…_Mouse amused herself for a few minutes imagining her parents' faces when Davey told them about each incident that had resulted over the course of their two-week absence. They would be absolutely appalled. It would be worth it, though, if Mouse could tell the last bit of the story herself. _"And then, I just spoke, just like that…" _she imagined telling them. _Hope_ that _happens soon_, she added to herself.

Jack returned and Crutchie went to bed. Les refused to leave Mouse's side, no matter how much Jack tried to persuade him to go downstairs and get some sleep. Mouse listened to the whispered argument, punctured by Jack wiping the blood from her back every few minutes. She noticed that her back wasn't bleeding as much anymore. Half an hour later, Jack stood up. "Fine." Les beamed. "I'll go drag a cot up here for you and you can sleep here." By 'cot' Mouse assumed Jack was going to take a mattress off an unused bed.

As soon as he was gone, Les lay down so his face was right next to Mouse's. "Hey." He paused, as if waiting for her to respond, but then continued. "I don't really know what to say to you...but, well, we read the letters." Mouse nodded. "And Jack and Davey feel really bad about giving you a hard time after the fire."

_I know. I forgave them a long time ago._

"I always knew it couldn't have been your fault, not really."

_But I realize now that blame isn't something that can be just pinned on one person. Blame is too complicated for that. Kind of like everything else in life. Complicated._

"And I also knew it had something to do with why you stopped talking."

_And you were right_.

"And I was right."

Mouse grinned.

Les allowed himself a grin back, but clearly had something very important to get off his chest. "Well, it's just...you know...the first thing at the factory? Such a long time ago? When...when all those people died and you stopped talking because of the nightmares?" Les said it very quickly.

_Yes_...and somehow it didn't seem like such a nightmarish thing in that moment, talking about it with Les.

"Well, Mouse...Haddie...I just want you to know...no matter what you think...that's all over now, okay? And...and it wasn't your fault. I thought about it, and I decided it wasn't your fault. So you don't even have to worry about it anymore, okay? Just...just know...just know that everything's all right now...and that that's over..." He gulped. "...and that you can speak now, if you want..."

Les's eyes were filled with tears. Mouse looked at her little brother, so hopeful and so tired of waiting for her. He had stuck with her through everything, speaking for her when she couldn't speak herself. He had understood her unspoken words, and treated her just like a regular sister. Les was the one who found her, and who had saved her life. And all he wanted was for her to speak.

"I know, Les."

The words startled him, however much he had been anticipating them. He stared at her in the dark, a look of awe etched across his face. Mouse smiled at him. She watched his eyes widen. Brother and sister stared at each other in the silence. For a moment, she thought they could stay there forever, staring at each other and just marveling in the miracle of speech.

But then Les was off like a shot, across the roof and down the ladder, and Mouse could hear his shouts that reached every corner of the Lodging House, rousing the newsies with an excited yell.

"Mouse can speak again! She can speak!"

They would be up at any minute to confirm the miracle. But in that moment alone on the rooftop, the girl called Mouse listened to the silence one last time.

-**Sis21K**


End file.
